


Sorted Too Young

by scarletcougar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Drama, Emotional Baggage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Post Hogwarts AU, Romance, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 67,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1554032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletcougar/pseuds/scarletcougar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dumbledore tells Snape this regarding both Snape and Draco in the book Deathly Hallows. “Sometimes, Snape, I think we sort them too young.”</p><p>Story of a boy… the boy who lived. A story of his inner struggle to be everything his mother hoped he would be, everything his father tells him to be, if only those two things were the same. A story buried in secrets and lies and deceptions. At seventeen, Draco wonders who he really is and questions the morality of every choice. Then came the final choice. He is the boy who lived. The question is, how… and why? </p><p>"Be the change, Draco. Be the change the world needs."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Angels & Demons

CHAPTER 1 – ANGELS AND DEMONS

The sun warmed his face. He still felt cold, cold to the core. Every movement brought waves of pain that echoed dully through the fog of potions. His vision blurred the scene before him in spots of light and shadow. Bandages wound most parts of his body, spelled to increase healing and prevent too much bleeding.

_Where am I? What happened? Why am I like this?_

The memories were unclear. Darkness threatened to swallow him, suffocate him. Her angelic eyes came into view, still blurry before him, but he knew they were there. When did he stop hating them? When did he stop thinking of her as a demon? As a taint in the wizarding world? Her hand rested gently on his chest as his breathing faltered. She whispered a foreign incantation and breathed. He breathed with her.

When he opened his eyes again, the world was full of red-headed demons. The Weasleys seemed to be everywhere.

_Am I a prisoner? Are they torturing me for information? I deserve no less, I suppose._

Arthur Weasley helped him up and carried him to a tub. He could not move on his own. “Easy son, it’s just a bath. You’ll be bandaged again soon and back into comfort.”

_Why? Are they tending my wounds? Why aren’t I in hospital?_

Vaguely in the background he could hear more Weasleys talking. Molly instructing through the door to give the men some privacy, not that she thought it was particularly necessary and she said so, “I raised too many son to be sensitive to boys parts Arthur.”

Draco was grateful in a way for Arthur’s retort, “You might be fine seeing him naked and not care, but he’s awake and I am sure he would mind, Molly. Let him have some dignity.” This was the first time Draco thought a Weasley made sense.

_Wait! I am naked?_

Water on the innumerable cuts, slices, gashes shot a yowl of agony from his lungs. He thrashed in panic. Molly invaded to help hold his steady, comfort him a little and get him to drink a potion for the pain. This was torture. He wanted to be cared for by his own mother. Why was she not here doing that? The potion blurred every sense and dragged him back to the dream world.

Molly fussed over treating the wounds and bandaging them, fussed over caring for this broken boy. It was Arthur’s idea to bring Draco here when the hospital was no longer a safe place for him. It gave Molly a son to care for since she felt so lost after the deaths of Charlie and Fred. All her children seemed so grown that they no longer needed or wanted to be cared for. But this son, someone else’s son, this boy who lived by some miracle, needed the kind of care Molly could give.

“Is he going to make it?” Ron asked his father. Harry came to stand with them and hear the answer, too.

Arthur sighed heavily. “The dark magic lingers in him. It is causing him to resist most of the healing potions and spells. But he is healing, just muggle slow.”

The world Draco would eventually wake to would never be the same. The war had ended. Voldemort was dead and the Death eaters were scattered rivalling bands fighting for control internally. It was like a King had died and his ten sons now fought for the throne. The heroes of the world were just teenagers whose lives have changed in the trauma, yet like teenagers their hearts healed swiftly even though they too had changed.

Ron and Hermione agreed to be just friends. They were better off as such. Harry wanted to be left alone too often, tired of the attention, so he broke it with Ginny who was starting a new relationship with Neville. Luna’s quiet presence shielded Harry from the media. Many lives changed. So many had died. Hogwarts too had changed, but it now underwent repairs in an effort to be ready for September, which was still several months away.

The fragile ministry felt it best to get the children back into school so they did not lose more than the one year. Having them ready to enter the working world soon now became a necessity. The remaining professors doubted any of the seventh year students would return, though. This was a different, dark, and damaged world Draco would wake to. It matched who he was at the moment perfectly.


	2. Early Drabble Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, teens outgrow their teen loves. It is perfectly normal. Who will marry who later in my story? *shrug* If I know, I am keeping that secret for now. The books explore Harry’s growth through the years with some hints into Ron’s and Hermione’s. The movies hint at Draco’s. That is where I want to focus, Draco’s character development in a "what if" kind of story.

CHAPTER 2 – EARLY DRABBLE DREAMS

This was a different, dark, and damaged world Draco would wake to. It matched who he was at the moment perfectly. For now, he lay asleep, drugged, dreaming, and healing.

_He must have been three years old when he was taught to ride a broom. “From silver spoon to golden broom,” was the saying. Well off wizarding families taught their sons to fly as soon as they were able to stand and walk with control. Draco loved flying on his broom. It was likely the only really good memory he had of his father. The smile of pride at his flying skills burned into his heart and he deeply wanted to see that rarity again._

Draco shifted in bed, the faint smile faded from his face as a pang caused his heart to wince.

_“Now remember, Draco. Some families are just better than others. Not everyone has had your excellent upbringing. If they were more intelligent or skilled, things would be different. That is what happens when the muggle world mixes with the wizarding one. You end up with mudbloods and squibs and witches and wizards with low standards.” Lucius walked through Diagon alley with his son._

_Narcissa frowned at this education. It was not really different than her own from the black family, but mudblood was a crude term and she did not approve of crassness. After some purchases, she witnessed the famous Harry Potter walking with Hagrid. “Try to make friends with that boy, no matter what house he ends up in?,” she asked Draco quietly, hoping that The Boy Who Lived might have a gentling influence on her son that his father did not._

Draco mumbled for his mother. Molly smoothed his hair and gently shushed him back into slumber.

_He held out his hand to Potter on the train but the youth did not take it. “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.” Potter’s words stung and reminded him of things his mother would say quietly to him. Draco’s cheeks turned slightly pink. He failed his mother already. Fine, he won’t fail his father._

Draco stirred awake to hear someone reading. She always was reading. He always thought she was smart, his only equal, even if she was muggle-born. And since the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he had started to think she was even beautiful. But she was forbidden. Hated. The enemy. A mudblood. His mother hoped he would be made Head boy and Granger Head Girl as they were both similar and opposites, a good challenge for her son. It was the first time Draco had witnessed his father strike his mother at the suggestion. Although, by that time, he knew it was not the first time it had happened. Draco found himself stepping between them to coolly take the punishment himself from a father who dealt it out dispassionately.

Now Granger sat by his bed and read from a complicated on magical theory. She read it out loud for him to hear. His mother used to read to him when he was little. He never dared read out loud like a child, though. Even his correspondences from each parent he had kept secreted away, read them then burned them. It was easier to do his father’s bidding at the school. Easier, yes, but lonely. Crabbe and Goyle were poor excuses for friends. They were more like… servants. Big and stupid. He envied Potter and the easy friendship that was shared with Weasley and Granger, the trust.

Draco hated everyone in his House, disliked most of his teachers, and wished he could be part of the Golden Trio. They really would have been better sorted into other Houses. Granger would have made an amazing Ravenclaw. Ron, even though he was a Weasely, was hard working and very loyal. He would have been a great Hufflepuff. Harry showed conniving abilities that rivalled anyone in Slytherin. Draco snorted thinking how funny it would have been if he had been himself sorted into Gryffindor. His father would have killed him at age eleven and promptly gone about making another son to replace the disgrace. That was the common threat after all. Draco had no doubt in his mind that his father would have done it, too. He closed his eyes again, trying to shut out the thoughts of the things his father had done to him.

_House elves suffered the first experiments and tortures. Lucius, even though he had denied being a willing servant of the Dark Lord, truly believed in the rewards he would gain from being a member of the Inner Circle. Draco had been forbidden access to the extensive library on Dark Magic that his father had been writing and accumulating since his time serving the Dark Lord. That magic served the family well. However, much of it was still in complex ancient scripting or was new and untested. Draco was permitted to watch as a reminder of what his place and how easily it could be him there and not the house elf. And when he did fail in some way, it was him there, chained in the dungeon. Like when his grade were found just shyly behind Hermione Granger’s._

_“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood,” His words tumbled out as ordered by his father. Mudblood was a bad word and he knew it. His mother had washed his mouth with soap any time he had said it without Lucius around. The moment he said it out loud on the Quiddich field of his first practice day as a seeker, he knew he would pay for it. The hurt look in the girl’s eyes shot deeply into Draco. She was such a selfless and brilliant witch. He knew she did not deserve the slander. His mother would be so ashamed of his action, his crude self-disgracing. It was not the gentlemanly behaviour she had read to him about and had taught him with every effort she could. He felt filthy. Dirt and blood._

Draco squirmed under the sheets. It had been days. The external gashes had finally showed evidence of mending, but the bones still took muggle slow. It was only the hope that the internal damage was healing as well as the external damage. Only time would tell.


	3. Prison of Torment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In my story, Remus and Tonks were already married with a son, Teddy, by the time Remus started teaching at Hogwarts. When Voldemort is finally defeated, Teddy is already three turning four years old. Thought I should warn you of the change I have made in the timeline of this. Teddy will show up now and then in the beginning and be a much bigger part of the story later on.

CHAPTER 3 – PRISON OF TORMENT

Draco squirmed under the sheets. It had been days. The external gashes had finally showed evidence of mending, but the bones still took muggle slow. It was only the hope that the internal damage was healing as well as the external damage. Only time would tell.

An ear-splitting scream tore through the house and rattled the windows. It ripped Draco from his dreams. He thought it had been his own scream as he was dreaming of his father’s first explorations with a new dark curse, a multi-layered curse Draco would never forget. The scream turned into terrible howling and again more screaming.

“Bill will you please do something?” demanded Molly.

Fleur covered her ears with her hands. Bill shot back, “It’s the damned full moon, mum. He’s like a wild dragon! If only…”

“Don’t you DARE say his name,” Molly sniffed tearfully.

Bill struggled with the shrieking and howling child whose eyes were shifting from they dark stormy grey to an iridescent gold. “Charlie might be dead, mum, but I can still wish he were here! I will not pretend he’s alive by not speaking his name!”

“Take Teddy outside, Bill. It’s too loud in here with him echoing. Are you sure he’s…” Arthur spoke warily.

Bill winced as another howl rattled the room. “The hospital swore he was not contagious.”

Hermione stomped over and stole the child from Bill’s arms. He was grateful. She carried him awkwardly outside, turned him over her knee and spanking him soundly. Molly gasped at the barbaric muggle act. She had never hit any of her children, ever. The shock silenced the toddler, who crumpled into a weeping mess on the ground between Hermione’s knees. “Are you done now?” she asked. The child looked up at her, cheeks wet, and lips quivering. “No, don’t you dare yowl and scream with me.” The fat tears spilled over those round cheeks again. She picked him up and cuddled him in her lap. He cried into her hair for his mum and dad.

Draco listened from his bed. He felt like that child. They had both lost everything, including the only people who loved them. They were both trapped in a prison of their own body, tortured and tormented in ways they did not really understand yet. And once again, Hermione seemed to be the life-line pulling them from the sea of insanity. He rolled over and drifted back to sleep now that it was somewhat quiet, as quiet as it could get in a Weasley household.

_He wished the pain would fade as swiftly as it did when the hippogriff had injured his arm. The large animal had terrified him. When Harry made the process of approaching it look so easy, he was insulted. His pride got the better of him and cost him. Draco preferred dogs. They used to breed them on the manor grounds. He had learned to train them and control them. He learned to breed them as a way of understanding the difference between pure blood and mudbloods. The mudblood hounds were not as good at hunting, though the odd one proves the exception, but they were far more friendly and even-tempered. His father used various killing curses on the mudblood hounds when he noted Draco’s interest in them. As outwardly as he pretended to be glad the hippogriff would be sentenced to death, he felt bad about it and could only remember the sad and pleading looks in the eyes of the puppies he played with._

He hadn’t known he was openly crying till someone wiped his face with a cloth. Draco curled onto his side, curled inwardly. He felt deep down that he should let the Dementors take him for his cruel acts.

Teddy had been taken to yet another institution, the third. They hoped he could be fostered there as none of the Weasleys were in a place to take on the challenging orphan. Draco hoped none of his cast spells had killed Remus or Tonks.

He already felt like Dementors had sucked everything happy from him. He had no happy thoughts he could hold onto strongly enough. He knew he would never be able to cast a patronus charm. Remus had taught that to Harry. He wished he had learned it, too. He felt stripped of all dignity, all pride, any scrap of honour or respect. Sucked empty and left weak and bloodless. This was the legacy of the pure bloods. In the end, they would be so insular, that they will drive themselves into extinction. It all came back to the breading of the hunting hounds. Bellatrix was a perfect example of the mistakes that happen when you inbreed.

Draco groaned. Potter helped him to sit up. “The loo is just there,” pointed Harry. “The rest of us are in the sitting room down the hall and down the stairs. Someone will bring you something to eat soon, I think.” Draco nodded dully to Potter’s words. He felt like a shell that had been filled with pain and loss and confusion. He watched Potter leave the bedroom and weighed his strength versus his need. The very thought forced the need to become quite insistent. Gripping the bed frame and a chair, he pulled himself to standing and wavered there a moment. He hobbled painfully forward one slow fumbling step at a time till his bladder screamed as loudly as the little wolf boy had the other day. He made it to the loo without help. It was a small achievement.

Dressing in somewhat more normal clothing and not sleep ware proved to be much more difficult. Ron had noticed the struggle as he passed the room. He still didn’t much like Draco. However, getting a howler in the middle of the night again from Hermione was not on the agenda… ever… again. He stepped in and helped. He tried to be conversational, talked about quiddich and the state of the games and teams now. Draco shared a strong interest in the game and allowed the assistance in order to hear something normal and interesting, something different than the thoughts bouncing around his head as he struggled to remember what had happened to his life. Grudgingly, he had to admit that Ron’s quiddich knowledge was actually even better than his own. Had he more mental strength, he thought that maybe he could get into some really good debates with Ron on the subject. Such discussions would have been forbidden by his father, especially such a discussion with Ron Weasley. But his father was not there, so he accepted the odd and simple pleasure of listening to this normally clumsy young man. Truly, though, Ron was definitely not clumsy as keeper on the quiddich field. In fact, Ron stood a good chance of making one of the professional teams.

Draco found himself, with Ron at his side, carefully limping into the hall. The splints interfered with movement. Ron’s encouragement to show him his quiddich collection encouraged him out. Ron finally found a ground he could like Draco on, someone to talk to about quiddich, as everyone else was fed up. And George wouldn’t talk about it at all now that Fred was gone.

The stairs felt daunting. He stumbled on the last to be caught by both Ron and Bill. Molly chastised them all. Draco should be in bed. “Come on, mum!” complained Ron. “If I was in a room as long as he was, I’d start thinking it was a prison. I’d bloody well want out, if only to look at something different. I’m gonna show him my quiddich collection!” Several eyes rolled, but Ron won this argument.

The world blurred a few times and small flashes of pain sparked behind Draco’s eyes and through his body. This was the most moving he had done in… how long? Must have been a long while. Ron wandered off to get his quiddich collection.

_When have I started thinking of him as Ron? Oh yeah… I am in a house full of Weasleys. I need a way to tell them apart in my head._

Granger was brewing a potion in the kitchen or dining room. It was hard to tell which it was. Apparently the Weasleys don’t actually separate those rooms.

The pain finally settles in his lower ribs on the left with twinges in his stomach. The twinges grew till he unconsciously moaned. He swallowed as his body trapped him again in a prison of pain. His clutched his stomach and leaned gulping for air. Draco wasn’t sure if he was going to pass out (he would never admit to fainting, but passing out was okay) or be sick. Bill rushed over and knelt to check on him. Draco lurched forward and vomited. Agony stabbed through his stomach and burned upwards and out. He had vomited all over Bill’s lap and the floor. Draco started to shake both from the experience and the embarrassment, and soon from the nervous call from Bill who seemed to take this in the most odd way. There was a sense of distress, but not anger.

Then the words registered. “Mum!” called Bill, “We have blood!”

Draco’s hands felt numb and tingly. Blood and bile coated them, the floor, Bill’s lap. Blood. Always blood. And pain. He felt so cold… so scared. He desperately wanted his mother. He felt like weeping like a small child. Maybe he did. His body was a prison of torment from which there didn’t seem to be any escape. Molly hugged him to her and wiped the mess from him. Others rushed to clean up the floor as Bill carefully backed off then left to wash himself up and change clothes. Draco clung to this motherly figure holding him with so much comfort and concern for him. It was the closest he was going to get to his own mother. She rocked him gently and soothed him till Hermione brought over the potion she was working on.

He didn’t want to drink another strange potion. He didn’t want to vomit again. He just begged and begged for this to be over, for it all to end. He was repeatedly reassured that the potion would help. Hermione met his eyes till he held hers in turn. She was the best and brightest witch this era. If she said her potion would help, it would. He relented and sipped her potion while cradled in Molly’s worried arms.


	4. Awkward Moments

CHAPTER 4 – AWKWARD MOMENTS

He relented and sipped Hermione’s potion while cradled in Molly’s worried arms. He spent the rest of the night on the sofa. The potion immediately eased the pain in his stomach and the feeling of nausea. Many other places inside him tingled as the potion took effect, knitting the internal wounds.

Hermione sat with him while the rest of the family and extrapolated family ate at the table. Molly brought over a plate and a bowl of soup. With great trepidation, he shared the soup and the plate of food with her. Under normal circumstances, sharing like this would disgust him. A few years ago, the idea of doing this with a mudblood would never even be a possibility in his mind. Now, he was less than nothing with his memory a scrambled mess like his body.

He dosed on the sofa while the people gathered and talked about politics, general affairs, the status of repairs, new development in the ministry and with Gringots, and new security measures. Ron finally dominated the conversation with quiddich. Draco drifted in dreams as the voices murmured around him.

_Potter and he were possibly the two best seekers Hogwarts has seen in ages. There was always the thrill of racing against him after the snitch. The stakes this time were higher. There were two other schools to impress and one had the famous Victor Krum. The Tri-Wizard Tournament would begin after Christmas. How Harry had managed to be accepted as a second Hogwarts champion, no one knew. Draco clearly saw his adversary’s anxiety and knew Potter was not a champion by choice. The Dark Lord’s hand was at work here. Draco had overheard his father speak of it._

_Since he had been betrothed to Pansy since they were maybe three, she was Draco’s date for the ball. He had made use of a small entrapment hex on his most private parts so he could deflower Pansy before the ball and not worry about random little bastards before they were actually wed. she liked him, well, she liked him as much as any girl would who intended to be married to a man for money. He was little more than an object to her, a trophy. He hated that, and thus hated her. Deflowering her was his way of turning the tables. Also, it allowed for an underhanded way of breaking their engagement and disgracing her. To his surprise, she had already been deflowered. He hid his surprise and tucked that secret away. He wanted freedom and choice in at least this one thing in his life, who he spent the rest of his life with._

_On the dance floor, it was easy to tell the pure bloods from everyone else. All pure bloods had been trained in the noble arts and graces, which included ballroom dancing. It was a hideous disgrace to see Ron Weasley dressed so poorly and unable to dance at all. Guess that was to be expected. His eyes scanned to see how poorly Harry Potter faired. Not so bad, but still pretty bad. He had not spotted Hermione Granger almost all night. The Golden Trio was not together. It seemed so bizarre, though they were having teenage romance troubles. Draco sneered, then he choked on the drink he was sipping. He recovered smoothly out of practice. There she was, dancing the Victor Krum. No wonder he didn’t see her. She looked so… different._

_Her hair had been tamed and bound up with long curling strands to tease the eye. Her dress hugged her developing figure magnificently. He swallowed and adjusted his long vest. She was breathtaking. He never imagined the mudblood would clean up so well. She looked as regal as any high born pure blood. He kept watch on her discreetly through the night till Pansy begged off early. Draco knew she was going to shag someone else. He didn’t care. He got his and would deal with her tramp behaviour accordingly later. Krum was the perfect gentleman, even kissing the back of Hermione’s hand before they parted. Granger was ignorant to the gesture as Krum’s lips touched her skin. It was rude. He was asking to shag her right there in front of anyone who knew the gesture. It was not nearly half as rude and Ron Weasley was when Granger and he crossed paths. She ran from the room in tears._

_“Very graceful, Weaselby,” Draco spoke condescendingly as he left the ballroom. He heard Potter restraining the red-head and smiled to himself. His mother had told him about how to gracefully treat a woman and how it spoke volumes about your upbringing in proper social events. Indeed. Ron’s actions spoke volumes! Draco had taken the utmost care with his own all night._

_He followed Granger through the corridors till she sank down onto some isolated stairs and wept into her hands. He stood silent like a sentinel in his shadow. He warned off anyone who came near and threatened them with unforgivable curses. Except for a teacher, who glared at him, peaked around the corner, then nodded and left. Professor McGonegall gave Draco a look of respect for the first time. He dared not meet her eyes and prayed that the news of this strange act never found its way to his father. When Granger recovered enough to return to Gryffindor Tower, Draco slithered away never looking back._

Draco woke to a quiet and dark living room. They had left him to sleep on the sofa. He tried to get up to save face and not appear to be a poor house guest, but a hand gently pressed him back down and then covered him with a blanket. Hermione raised a finger to her lips. “How do you feel,” she whispered.

“No’ like I’ll yak on ennone agin,” his words slurred. “Be’er I suppose.”

She smiled at him, at him directly. “You look much better. And it is good to hear you speak. We worried the dark magic had done more damage than we could see.”

She had a right to think that. Prolonged exposure to the crutiatus curse and you ended up like Longbottom’s parents, vegetable-brained people in an institution for the insane. Draco shuttered. He didn’t want to remember how he ended up this way. The thoughts, the memories were too scary. He was never really a brave person after all. The Shrieking Shack terrified him. So did big animals. And so did Granger when she decided to just punch him in the face. He deserved it, thinking back on it.

“I’ll make more of that potion for you tomorrow. It is a relief to finally find something that works. Without any doctors to advise me, it has been trial and error going on what notes we could get from your medical files and the treatments they had started you on.” She rested her hand on his chest. He had an urge to cover her hand with his own, but she moved before he could. “Sleep easy, Draco.” The awkwardness passing.

She really had grown into someone tall, beautiful, graceful. He watched her go and closed his eyes to dream of another time he watched her dancing.

_He was on a mission for the Dark Lord. A test that would earn him the Dark Mark. His mother protested that he was too young. His father declared that it was the will of the Dark Lord. Draco knew to defy the Dark Lord meant you were betraying him and he would then kill every member of your family. He had to do this, to protect his mother. He had to keep it totally secret. The Room of Requirement proved his solution. It was close to time. He would get the Dark Mark over the Christmas holidays if he could get the cabinet to just work. It worked with an apple. He had success! He would be marked and instructed on how to fully repair the cabinet. Then the invasion would begin._

_Invasion into Hogwarts. To kill people, kill key people in the Order of the Phoenix. He often wondered why he had not defected and joined Potter’s DA club. They were learning so much. But those plans were already decided by his father and the Dark Lord. The plan was in the end to take over, but some would have to die if they did not surrender._

_He snuck off to Slughorn’s private Christmas Party. He was not one of the invited people. His grade had been slipping so he could do the secret missions. Yet, he wanted badly to see Granger one last time all dressed up and dancing. She was like an angel, so pretty. He spied quietly. It did not last nearly long enough till he was discovered. He sputtered out excuses till finally he lied and confessed he was gate crashing. Snape dragged him away. All he wanted to do was watch Granger a little longer. It would never happen again. The world was going to change very soon. Too soon._

_“Be the change, Draco my son. This is the first and oldest promise we made together. I cannot do it. But please, remember, be the change, be the change the world needs,” pleaded his mother over the holidays moments before his father apparated him to the ceremony of marking._

_He was trapped. He would never be able to fulfill that oath to his mother. It was a dream they had together of a strong new world. What the Dark Lord was bringing about didn’t seem like a strong world to Draco, but one where everybody was no better than house elves to the Dark Lord. A state of slavery. He dared not say it, dared not think it. His father had taught him well to resist occlumency._

_At the ceremony, though, he failed the occlumency test. Granger in her pretty dress filled his thoughts. “I will gift her to you, Draco,” hissed the Dark Lord. Draco simply nodded as he held out his arm for the Mark to be magically burned into his flesh. . It was the only way he might be able to save her… and forever hate himself for it._


	5. Saved by Love

CHAPTER 5 – SAVED BY LOVE

_It was the only way he might be able to save her… and forever hate himself for it._

Hermione’s potion was saving him from the brink of death. And he thought he was saving her a while ago. No, clearly it is the other way around. It unmanned him a little to think that a woman was saving his life, repeatedly. Not just any woman, but a muggle-born witch. He grew slowly stronger. His dreaming became more erratically peppered with nightmare of the horrible things his father had done to him. As he healed, the older scars could not be distinguished from the newer one. Their similarity, though, proved more informative to his caretakers than he wanted to admit.

He started to ask the odd question about the state of affairs. And when strong enough sat and read the Daily Prophet. When he was bored, he even read Luna’s Quibblers. Harry was just coming back from Grimauld Place, his new estate. Draco had just started to get slightly used to the less posh environment. The news about Grimauld Place was better than Malfoy Manor, according to Harry. The physical damage to the Black Estate House was bad, but repairable. However the Dark Magic damage to Malfoy Manor still rendered it unlivable. They were still trying to get through that just to see the physical damage. It might be a year or two before Draco would ever be able to set foot even on the grounds.

Draco frowned and stood. “What news… what news have you of my father?”

Harry spoke with frustration, the kind that was shared with many people. “Lucius remains at large. He has fled to Scotland and might go further north before he comes back. He is calling himself the new Dark Lord. Many here are less keen to follow him. They lost lots with the past war. That does not mean he does have followers here. He does, we just haven’t figured out who they are. What we do know is he still has a hate for those not of pure blood and a worse hate for blood traitors.”

“Doesn’t that put this house and inhabitants in danger?” Draco dared.

“This place is almost as safely secured as Hogwarts used to be. Also, it is never without guards or protection.” Harry meant not just spells, but people and other creatures.

“And my mother?” His currently spotty memory prodded him to ask.

The hush that fell made the air think like soup. Molly backed out of this potential conversation as she had not been present at the incident. Harry regarded Draco with slight confusion. “You were in hospital for three weeks, Draco, and here for almost another three weeks. You don’t remember?”

Standing sapped his energy swiftly, but Draco wanted to remain standing till he had his answers. He shook his head uncertainly at Harry.

“I’m sorry. She… died. Lucius tried to Avada Kadavra you and she protected you. She took the hit… like my mother took it for me. She protected you with her love and her life.” Harry tried to soften a blow he knew could never really be softened and regretted being the one to break this to Draco. He really thought Draco recalled.

Draco staggered back a little. His breaths came short and fast as denial made him shake his head in disbelief. He had truly lost everything. His father, as cruel as he was. His home for who knows how long, maybe even forever. And the only person who ever cared about him, his mother. The colour washed from his face and his body grew clammy. His thoughts sprang around in panic in his head like a mouse in a death trap. Harry grabbed him to try to steady him, calling his name.

_It isn’t true! NO! She has to be alive! I heard her voice. I heard it. She bade me hold to my vows. She asked me to be the change. I heard her. She can’t be dead!_

But in his heart he knew. Six weeks had passed and she was not the one who cared for him through his healing. She was gone. The world snapped out of existence. He now shared the nickname that Harry did, The Boy Who Lived. He was saved by his mother’s love and self-sacrifice.

A distant voice echoed in the darkness, “He’s gone into shock. Let’s get him into bed.”

The darkness was so cold he could not stop shaking and shivering. In green flashes came the memories of his mother’s death. Saved by her love. Soon after, the rest of the memories filled in the gaps. He howled out his terror and wished the memories would not come.


	6. Crushing Truth

CHAPTER 6 – CRUSHING TRUTH

Soon after, the rest of the memories filled in the gaps. He howled out his terror and wished the memories would not come. It might have been self-preservation that the memories buried themselves. Hermione would have leaned on muggle psychology and called it simply trauma. Now they surfaced. In the darkness of his mind it felt like the air was sucked out and wooshed back in. The world lurched and tipped and spun. It was much like experiencing a portkey for the first time, or apparating via someone else for the first time. Your body sucked into one space, leaving your stomach caught in your throat with your mind somewhere behind. Draco might have thought he fell into a pensieve except he was not an observer but reliving the memories as a participant.

_Hogwarts castle was in chaos. After being saved by Potter from Crabbe’s fiendfyre curse, Draco owed Potter a life debt. He then owed one to Ron Weasley when the red-head saved him from a Death Eater who assumed Draco was a student and a blood traitor for not attending a meeting all Death Eaters were at. In a way, the Death Eater was right. Draco was being a blood traitor when he convinced Crabbe and Goyle to hunt Potter in the castle instead of attend the stupid meeting. It was a devious way to try to save their lives, save them from becoming killers and dying in the thick of battle. Crabbe died anyway for his stupidity. Goyle now owed Draco a life debt as well as Ron Weasley. Ron unwittingly had some very fine debts to collect in his back pocket. Draco considered reminded Ron of that should either of them survive this._

_He stood on the isolated stair looking out a window. “Win this war for us, Potter. Free us… free me.” Not that anyone heard. The Dark Army roared out of the woods in great cheers. They stormed the school. Potter was dead. He couldn’t believe it. The Dark Lord demanded submission from all. It was just as Draco expected, a slave state. It was nothing he wanted any part of. He was slave to no one. The Death Eaters tore through the castle grounds when no one submitted. It would be a massacre._

_Just as he turned, he spotted the Sorting Hat give up the Sword of Godric to… Neville Longbottom? He turned back and plastered his face to the glass to see better. Longbottom killed the vile serpent, Nagini. Draco cheered! Then looked around to see if anyone saw him do something so juvenile. He HATED that snake. It ate people. He shuddered at the memories. It was one of the many horrible fates you might suffer for betraying the Dark Lord. Well, not now. Good riddance! While intent on the scene below, he saw the deception of Harry Potter. Really, that one should honestly have been sorted into Slytherin. He fought the urge to run and hide when he heard screams of agony or death and the joyous cries of death Eaters on their killing spree. He looked down at the singed sleeves and the slightly burned Dark Mark. The fiendfyre seemed to have broken its call or its bonds. Or, Harry ended Voldemort while he was distracted with the impending carnage._

_Carnage, the massacre of children. His stomach flipped over. He looked back over the staircase. Spells flung back and forth. Whose side was he on? Should he run and hide? Should he fight with the Death Eaters? What will his parents be doing? The terrified part of him pleaded for him to hide and wait it out. But this was his chance. The Dark Lord had fallen. His father no longer had grounds to beg his innocence. This was Draco’s chance at freedom, from the Death Eaters, from his father. Freedom to be whoever he wanted to be. Freedom to be himself. It burned a bright though small flame of courage within him. All he had to do was save some lives and stay out of his father’s way. Then he might even become a hero._

_He knew many of the Dark Arts and the counter magics for them. He knew how to fight with magic. Dueling with Potter only improved that. He could honestly do something of worth and make major changes in the way pure bloods would be seen. It would resolidify the respect in the Malfoy name. He also knew this school and its little secret corridors much better than most of the Death Eaters. Spurred by his vision of heroism, warmed by the possibilities it carried, Draco rushed off through the castle to guide students into more secure locations or into the defenses of parents or the order of the Phoenix members. He came face to face with Arthur Weasley. The older man’s wand didn’t remotely waver as it pointed at Draco’s face. From behind Draco, a second year girl cried out her uncle’s name and ran out from the safety of Draco’s tall figure into her uncle’s arms and then behind him for protection. Understanding jumped into Arthur’s eyes and he lowered his wand. Draco turned and ran back into the chaos, ducking through a panel and into a hidden passage. Every soul he saved seemed to cleanse him a little more and bring sparks of light to the dark corners inside Draco, the one’s that he thought he had lost himself to when Dumbledore died._

_He heard his mother call his name, but wasn’t able to come from the passage into a place where she could see him. He dashed up the stairs to a group of first years. They were huddled, too scared to move. He was about to take them down the stairs to safety, when that route became blocked by Death Eaters. He hated that name, it was barbaric. She herded the kids back up the stairs. His father stood in the hall and executed a prefect there. He reached for his wand. There was no wand. DAMMIT. He forgot, Potter had taken it from him. He was wandless. He slammed his hands on the rail of the balcony landing at the top of the staircase and whispered and pleaded for the castle to help, to protect its students, to change the stairs NOW! To his shock, it did just that. The only threat now was… his father… the only man that actually scared Draco more than the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord was barely human, so one could expect he would barely act human. His father, though, was fully human and had no excuse for his inhumanity._

_Lucius yelled Draco’s name. “I see you are wandless son. Good thing you brought them to me to deal with.” Draco caught his mother running down the hall and skidding to a graceless stop. She pleaded with Lucius to stop, that it was over, that the Dark Lord was dead. “Then I shall take up his cause,” snapped Lucius._

_Narcissa’s eyes pleaded with Draco not to obey. Pleaded with him silently. She mouthed out their secret oath… be the change. Draco stood on a threshold, not unlike when he held his wand ready to execute Dumbledore. Right and wrong and cowardice and courage warred inside him. Moments like this separated men from boys and heroes from cowards. Moments like this could earn a look of pride or scorn, love or disappointment. His mother had been disappointed in him for years for doing his father’s will. He was sick of doing his father’s will. He was sick of the cruel punishment. He wanted freedom so badly that it was worth dying for. A final look of true love and pride from his mother was also worth dying for. Choosing to defy his father would result in death after all. Draco wondered if he was ready to die now at seventeen on the cusp of eighteen._

_He looked from father to mother and back again. “Prefect, I’m scared,” whispered a boy behind him. “Me too,” Draco whispered back. The sound of the golden Trio running and calling from a staircase that was just moving into place sounded behind him. He made his choice. His eyes went cold. His face lost all emotion, becoming hard. He flung his arms out to either side as it to form a T shape of his body. His robes effectively hiding the kids behind him. “Run, he growled at them. They did._

_“BLOOD TRAITOR!” yelled Lucius to his son._

_“No father! YOU are the blood traitor when you gave up the lives of witches and wizards. You are the traitor when you threw away your family’s love and then their freedom! YOU are the traitor when you beat and raped and tortured with dark magic your only child as if he were nothing to you! You are the traitor when you gave up the manor to the Dark Lord, breaking century old oaths. YOU are nothing!” Draco could not stop his words the moment they started tumbling out. He took in a deep breath to yell out more as his mother gave him the look he always wanted to see, pride in her son for doing the right thing._

_Ron Weasley ushered the kids away to safety as Hermione and Harry ran up to provide Draco with aid. They still had two flights of stairs to run up to reach him. Harry could not fire any shots with Draco blocking the way, though. He had no clear line of sight to Lucius. Draco’s words were shocking and yet made perfect sense._

_Lucuis’s face twisted into a terrible expression. His wand thrust forward. “AVADA KADAVRA!”_

_“NOOOOO!” cried Narcissa who leapt in front of Draco, taking the killing blow in his place. Her love and her life shielded Draco. Lucius attempted a second casting that was merely deflected by the residual effects of Narcissa’s most ancient magic, the love of a mother for her son. It protected Draco from that curse that killed her._

_“Fine. A fast death is not good enough for your treachery anyways,” spat Lucius._

_Harry and Hermione shook themselves from their own shock, a shock Draco could not shake himself of. Draco simply stared, stunned, at his mother’s lifeless body._

_“RICTUS EXCRUTIO PETRICRACKUS!” A pale green ball of light no larger than a snitch shot across and his Draco in the chest. Draco staggered from the impact and fell on the landing between Harry and Hermione. Harry leapt over Draco, wand at the ready. But Lucius as already apparating away._

_Draco panted hard, mumbled something, called to his mother. He took in great gasps of air like it was hard to breathe. Hermione knelt by him. She pulled him into her lap and tried to shake him free of the shock in his eyes. The spell he was hit with was nothing they knew of._

_Draco then arched and contorted yowling in agony as if the crutiatus curse was being cast upon him. He did so for a count of thirty eternal seconds. Then in the last contorted position ever muscle tensed and stiffened as if petrified. He grew taught so that even the facial muscles tugged his expression into one of horror and held him thus unable to even breathe for another eternal thirsty seconds. Hermione screamed at Harry to do something. A small ball of light rose from Draco’s flesh and meandered over his skin, slicing it neatly and leaving the blood trail in its wake to dot and soak Draco’s clothing. Then it sank back into his body. A sick crackling crunch sound marked the release from the stiffened state and ripped a scream of from Draco at the bone the cursed ball broke in his body._

_The scene was crueller than any curse Harry or Hermione had ever seen or experienced. Draco lay almost limp in Hermione’s arms. He panted and sweat beaded over his face. He whimpered for his mother. It brought tears to Hermione’s eyes. At least it was over. The castle had started to quiet in the minute or two that passed._

_Quiet until the dark magic curse cycled again through Draco. Thirty seconds of writhing torture. Thirty seconds of breathless tension trapped in a rictus of horror while the flesh sliced open slowly in a random path. Then the crack of a bone and a scream. Hermione screamed with him this time. The respite was again only a minute or two. Barely time to catch his breath before cycling again… and again. Ron stared wide-eyes at the fourth cycling and ran for his father or anyone who might know what to do to stop this before Draco ended up a dead bleeding pile of sliced flesh and broken bones. It was a killing curse, a slow one, a new one. It was one of Lucius’ creations._

_By the sixth cycling, Draco was hardly even bothering to scream. The blood soaked over Hermione’s hands and lap. In one of the respites, he gasped out, reaching a bloody hand up to her face, “I … always thought… you were… beautiful…” The curse cycled again before he could say more._

_Harry and Arthur came up with a solution, or so they hoped. Harry would trap the ball of light when it made its way to Draco’s forearm. Arthur would then tear it from Draco. So many bones were broken. So many blessing cuts covered his body. They knew they had to do something soon. He was not going to last much longer. Hermione held him through it all._

_The deadly ball sliced across the exposed dark mark on Draco’s forearm. Harry cast his shield spell. The ball sliced furiously trapped there till the mark was unrecognizable. The blood poured freely. It sank and cracked one of the forearm bones before Arthur could rip it free. Remus would have been much better at this than Arthur, but no one else knew what to do, nor dared try in case they worsened things. Hermione desperately tried to stave off of the bleeding or Draco would bleed to death before they could free him of the cursed razor ball. Other students and adults started to gather. Luna quietly retold what she had witnessed from a stairway landing across the area of stairs._

_Draco’s heart fluttered weakly from loss of blood and exhaustion from the torment. He had endured this curse before at his father’s hand. It was what made him more afraid of his father than anyone or anything else. Each breath came randomly and shallowly. Hermione knew he was close to his end. Dobby died in Harry’s arms. Draco was dying in hers. A whisper in her ear made her gasp._

_No one else had heard it. “I haven’t much time,” whispered the faintest ghost of Narcissa. I will teach you to save his life. For me, save him. Tell him I loved him and am proud of the man he has become. Tell him to keep his promise… to live… and be the change we dreamed of.” She then whispered ancient magical instructions into Hermione’s ear. She followed them without hesitation._

_She leaned over Draco, pressing her cheek to his to whisper in his ear, one of her hands over his heart as her other arm cradled him. She whispered the incantation and ended it with, “now, breathe with me.” And he did. His heartbeat strengthened, his breath steadied, they matched her own. His eyes remain closed. The curse began to cycle again. This time Harry and Arthur were ready. Hermione kept her focus. Draco survived the combined efforts of Arthur and Harry. He lived, only because Hermione willed him to. There had been hints of his true allegiance. The truth was in the penseive. The truth was in his damning words to his father. The truth was his willingness to sacrifice himself for the lives of others. It didn’t clear him of everything, but it cleared him of a lot. The rest he would have to prove with his living and she intended to see that through. He’d have to do it alone, for his mother was dead._

He heard her whispers. He felt her warmth. She was an angel with a life line in a sea of torment. Was it minutes? Hours? Days? Draco didn’t know. But she was with him through it all over again. His mother… was not… never would be. He opened his eyes to find he had been bundled in blankets in a bed. He felt empty inside. The truth crushed him. He opened his eyes and stared at nothing for hours. He just wanted to fade away.

_Be the change…_

How was he to be that? He was as much nothing as he had accused his father of being. He was less than nothing with no family, no home and practically a crippled mess. He followed simple commands to wash, dress, eat… like a hollow puppet. There were no words. There was only silence in all he did… for days. His body showed progress in healing, but his heart and spirit…

Draco stared out his bedroom window. “Come down for tea, Draco,” offered Molly as she passed his room. Did he deserve this other family’s mother and her comfort? He stared out the widow a little longer trying to stay stone inside, trying to bury his pain, not knowing how to deal with it, and less so how to deal with the people around him. The truth… he died out there when she died. He didn’t know who he was anymore.

He turned away from the window and obeyed the simple request. He leaned on walls and rails and door frames as he hobbled down to the bottom of the stairs. He eyes on the floor before him. A hand materialised and pressed against his chest. He looked up into Hermione’s eyes. There was no pity there, but a degree of understanding and comfort. He attempted to back away as the truth threatened to crash forward and crush him again. She stepped in closer and wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging him to her. His chest started to heave. His face contorted as he struggled for composure. He held her for balance, or so he told himself seconds before the truth spilled with his tears as he buried his face into her hair and shoulder and wept bitterly at last, mourning.

Hermione simply held him through this too. Everyone else in the house gave them space.

“What… what do I do now?” His hoarse whisper was barely audible near her ear, voice thick with emotion still.

“You live, Draco. You live… and be the change you always dreamed of, whatever that was, is, or could be. And maybe one day you will tell me what that is?” she spoke as Narcissa had asked her to.

“Maybe… one day…”


	7. Finding a Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please R&R.

CHAPTER 7 – FINDING A PLACE

Draco had lost the entirety of spring due to the war and then due to healing. A glance out the bedroom window showed evidence of the April rains having given way to May flowers. This house was not the usual Burrow home. That had been burned to the ground along with much of the vegetable gardens and grain fields. This rebuilt structure on the same grounds stabbed guilt into Draco. He pressed his hand to the glass then his forehead as he sat in the sill. The grounds were left to do as they pleased. In their random way, out of the charred and blackened damage, beauty rose in hues of white, green, gold and dotted with pink and blue and purple. Thus grew the fields by the end of May. Draco wondered if anything good could come of his own charred and blackened body and soul.

The casts had been removed and many of the bandages, now. He still needed to bandage his right knee for support. He could not stand without that nor without leaning on walls and such. He was a walking cripple. The state disgusted him with himself. How was he to be any kind of change like this? Unable to even cross the room without risk of falling over. The hand on the glass fisted. That same arm remained bandaged as well and had resisted the flesh healing charms and potions. There was a plan to sneak him into a muggle hospital where a contact of theirs was a doctor who might be able to help. Draco wondered if there would be any light at all that could come out of him, anything good at all with so much dark magic rooted within him. He worried silently that maybe one day he would just snap, go mad with the darkness and kill everyone. He shuddered.

Footsteps sounded behind him and a gentle mothering hand rubbed through his hair as Molly often did with her own sons. Draco no longer flinched to it. He was moody, but needed the comfort too badly to throw this off. “You should come down for dinner, Draco. Eat with the family.”

He only shook his head. Harry was away at Grimauld Place and Hermione was not at the Burrow either. She must have gone home to her own loving family. Draco’s stomach clenched at the loss of his own. No, he could not sit there amongst all these Weasleys without the buffer of Harry and Hermione. He hated that disappointed sigh Molly gave. It was almost as manipulative as his own best conniving words. He muttered a shy and shameful confession, “It hurts to take the stairs down.”

He had spoken so little since that last shock. She seemed to understand and promised to bring dinner up for him.

His birthday was in but a couple weeks and that weighed greatly on him. There would be nothing from his father or his mother. Since his father had spent time in Azkaban, Draco had been held to blame and Lucius stopped any show of kindness to him. But Draco missed his mother so badly it hurt in his chest as much as the worst of his tortured wounds. He didn’t even get to be present at her burial. He had no idea where she was buried, even.

The days trickled by in moody awkwardness as he tried to cope with his emotions and senses of loss. The charmed wall calendar flipped to the next month, to June. On the 5th day there was a symbol. He hobbled over to inspect it. Squinting in confusion, he tapped it with a finger. The symbol transformed for a moment to say, “Draco’s B-day” and back to the symbol. He didn’t know how he felt about that. His 18th birthday was mark on some other family’s calendar. He turned away determined to ignore it. Dressed for the day, though late as he had slept through breakfast, he figured he would try to seek out lunch. He was certain he had heard Hermione’s voice. A buffer was in the house and he felt that maybe, just maybe he could venture down into the rest of the house.

He gritted his teeth and limped down the stairs. The family of red-heads greeted the arrival of their father, Arthur. Hermione had only apparated in maybe an hour ago. She took something from Arthur cheerily. And then approached Draco as she saw him at the bottom of the stairs. Ginny thundered down the stairs behind him. He tensed up expecting an impact or to be knocked over in her enthusiasm to greet her father. She skidded suddenly behind him, gave him a swift hug then darted around him to hug her father. Hermione smirked (and covered her mouth to hide it) at the bizarre and totally caught off guard expression that flashed over Draco’s reddening face.

She placed a cane in Draco’s free left hand. His face instantly fell into something unreadable, blank and stoic. Then he frowned deeply, jaw working as he reigned in the storm that rushed to the surface full of panic and hate. “I don’t want this!” He threw it to the ground and limps back up the stairs as fast as he could. He could not hold it, hold a cane as his father had. He could not bear the reminding. He felt so offended and furious and scared all at the same time. It was hard to contain.

Hermione picked up the cane that Arthur had bought and charmed to automatically adjust to the needed height of the holder. “Draco? Draco!” she followed him up the stairs. He entered his room and slammed the door in her face. “You bloody God damned GIT!” she yelled through the door. She opened the door and invaded his borrowed bedroom, slamming the door behind her. “How dare you!” She stomped forward.

He could not outrun her or throw her out. He had no wand and no physical stability. He chose to shut her out in the only way he could. He turned his back on her and faced the window, his right hand leaning on the side of the window frame for balance. His left hand fisted against Hermione’s self-righteousness.

“How dare you! They have done so much for you! We have done everything we could to save you! They gave you a roof! Protection! Healing! Care! And this is how you repay it!” Every word she said was true and it twisted inside him.

 

“You have no idea!” Draco spat back. I don’t want that! I can’t have it, can’t… you don’t understand!”

The Weasleys wondered if they would hear the fight take on the pops and bangs of thrown spells or thrown objects.

Half way across the room she tapped the cane on the floor to get his attention. He flinched reflexively, ready to block a blow. She frowned. Looking down at the cane and back at him, her bright mind swiftly adding up the pieces. “I think I do,” she said more gently. “Did he hit you with it?” He turned back to the window ashamed of his cowardice. “He did. I know he did. He hit you. He took you to that dungeon we were in and experimented on you. He… raped you. I remember you accusing him in the school stairway.”

He inhaled shakily and covered his eyes with the hand with the one not leaning on the window frame. It seemed like the room lost all its air. It was hard to breathe. Tension rolled through him as he fought for control. It didn’t help that she had come so close he could feel her bosom press a little against his back shamelessly. She whispered some foreign ancient words in his ear. Then spoke, “Breathe Draco. Just breathe." He felt himself take in a deeper breath at her command, breathing almost in time with her. He hand between his shoulder blades like an anchoring life line. He surrendered to her steadiness, slowly relaxing with each breath. The connection gently broke when she stopped touching him. He turned to finally face her.

He wondered where she had learned that trick, that bit of ancient wandless magic. Only old wizarding families knew it and used in in part of very intimate magic. Hermione truly was too smart for her own good. She forced the cane firmly but gently into his left hand again and adjusted it till he held it properly and found himself leaning on it.

Her hand caressed his over the cane’s handle as she spoke, “It does not make you like him. You are not like him and never will be, Draco.” He dropped his eyes at her words and stared at the cane he now leaned on. She raised her other hand and softly held his cheek. “Your mother’s ghost asked me to tell you something.

His eyes suddenly snapped to hers. His mother ghost had spoken to her. He wanted to use occlumency to see the memory for himself. If he had a want, he might have used that dark magic on her regardless.

“She told me to tell you she loved you, more than life itself.” He swallowed hard, knowing that Hermione spoke the truth, he could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes. “She said she was very proud of the man you are becoming.” She brushed a tear he had not realized meandered down his cheek.

Over the next hour, it seemed very quiet in his bedroom. The Weasleys hoped they were both alive.

Hermione helped teach him how to walk properly with the cane. They came down together as lunch was being served on the table. He was shaky on the cane, uncertain, but he had to admit it helped a great deal. He still didn’t feel like this was his place in the world or even in this house, though. Sitting at this table for a meal for the first time in weeks. Surrounded by Weasleys and Hermione. He felt out of place, but stayed and ate in silence. Harry apparated to the front door to join them just in time.

After lunch, Harry intercepted and guided him out to sit on the front porch. “I know how it must feel sitting there at the table. You feel like a welcomed guest, a loved family member that had been lost for so long, and yet at the same time you feel like it is all wrong. The food is wrong the way it is served to you, the place setting. You feel like you just don’t belong. You want to belong so badly it hurts and you want to run and hide from this forbidden place they have found for you simultaneously.”

Draco looked at Harry incredulously. “How… how do you know?”

“It’s how I felt the first hundred times I sat at that table with them.” Harry leaned back on his hands and swung his feet back and forth over the side of the balcony floor’s edge. “We just come at it from opposite side and yet similar experiences. For you, it is not the rich table setting and fancy foods. It is not the restrained propriety of manners and likely silent eating while house elves almost invisibly served you. For me it was an overpowering invasion of welcome. I was used to being the servant and eating the scraps shoved to be in the cupboard under the stairs where they locked me up for the first eleven years of my life.”

Draco could hardly believe anyone would do that to a child, even a muggle. But then, considering the other things his father had done to him, anything was possible.

Harry went on, “We’ve both been beaten bad by family who should be caring for us and loving us. We’ve both been raped by family who should never have ever touched us like that.” At Draco’s gasp, Harry looked over. “Hermione knows. She’s held me through lots of nightmares of my cousin attacking me. She’s a really good friend and strong when I cannot be. She’ll be strong for you too. But try to remember, she’s lost her family too and also no longer has a place to go.”

“But I thought…”

“You thought her sweet muggle family would welcome her home with open arms?” asked Harry. Draco nodded. “Maybe they would, maybe one day in the future they will, but not till someone can find a cure or counter spell for the obliviate charm.”

“Who obliviated them?” Draco asked a bit stunned.

“She did,” Harry stated flatly. Draco’s jaw dropped. “She had to. Death Eaters were seeking out the muggle families of muggle-borns and killing them. So she obliviated all memory of her from her parents. She is very strong Draco, but try to remember she sacrificed a lot too. And that she too hurts and is scared and lonely.”

“Will we ever find our places in this world?” Draco asked more to himself than to Harry.

Harry sighed. “I think we will have to make our places in this world ourselves, not find them. The world is a total mess.”


	8. Births & Deaths

CHAPTER 8 – BIRTH & DEATH

Draco was not used to putting himself in other people’s shoes. It was easier to feel at least not alone in the horrors of life. He isn’t the only one who has been abused. He isn’t the only one who lost everything. The common ground made it easier, easier to understand, easier to know how someone else felt. It also made it easier to know what to say and how to be around them because he knew what he wanted said to himself and how he wanted people to be around him. This proved to be a turning point for Draco Malfoy.

_Be the change, my son._

He improved daily with the walking on his hideous cane. It was as ugly and bland as they came. He couldn’t exactly expect Arthur Weasley to have any taste in accessories. The man couldn’t even match his socks. Draco didn’t complain though. He knew he could change the cane later for something more to his style. For now, it served a purpose, to get him mobile so he didn’t look like a crippled ass when he did eventually venture into the public. One day he would have to do that, come out of hiding and face the real world.

For now, he accepted a cup of tea graciously from Molly. It was his birthday and the morning sunrise seemed remarkably beautiful. He found himself wishing Hermione was there to see it with him. She was out with Harry preparing something important or cleaning up some dark magic mess as they had been almost every day. Molly wished him a happy birthday, but did not make a fuss over him. She had learned how uncomfortable such fusses were for him. He wondered when that change happened in his life. He used to be such a spoiled child that revelled in parental fussing. Somewhere, he grew up, he supposed.

She was baking him a cake though. So some fussing would happen anyways. It made him miss the sweets his mother always sent him.

Being among the Weasleys drove home so many differences and tugged at him to be especially gentlemanly in his behaviour. It was all he really had left of himself and his old life. He thought often about the lessons his mother taught him about manners and employed them perfectly and often. His father’s lessons were more social and meant for when in public. He needed to evaluate them before he employed them.

Draco sipped his tea and watched the sun warm the flowers in the front fields. Molly came to stand beside him. “What is troubling you, dear?”

Draco frowned and thought that it must be her mother’s instinct to just know these things. “I made my mother a promise that I don’t know how to keep.”

“And what promise is that?” she asked casually.

He sipped his tea before replying. “To be the change… the change we dreamed of or the change the world needs, whatever that means.”

“Why not start with yourself? All changes start first from within. Then with the choices you make.” She suggested lightly as she walked back to check the cake. Draco concluded that she was this wise because she had so many children and has likely had to work through so many different situations with them as they grew to adulthood.

Harry and Hermione apparated onto the front porch.

“Time for you to go, dear,” announced Molly. Draco looked at her totally confused then back out the window. “We’ll meet you there soon.”

Ron was guided groggily by his father to the front door. The younger was dressed but far from awake.

Just as Draco was thinking how he didn’t want to look like a destitute crippled ass in public, here he was being directed out the door into the public before he felt he was really steady enough to look distinguished.

Arthur apparated away with Ron leaning on his shoulder. Other Weasley’s were coming out and apparating away. Draco stood, leaning heavily on the cane and picking at his clothing. It was not a suit. It was not silk or cashmere or fine tweed or twill. He was dressed too casually to be seen in public. He wished he had more notice, more warning. Harry waved at him and whispered something to Hermione. “What? Harry! How could you forget it? Go… go… I’ll take him. Geez Harry,” She rolled her eyes as Harry apparated away.

He watched her approach the front porch. “I am not exactly decently dressed,” he tried to excuse himself from whatever trip into the world everyone had planned.

“So? Go get decently dressed. Better yet, throw over a cloak and we will take a short trip into town to Diagon Alley. I assume you have your own accounts and know where to get clothes you like? Then you can look as smart as you always have,” she suggested.

He hoped she did not see the color rise up his neck to his cheeks. Molly stepped out and draped a cloak over his shoulders having overheard the conversation. He made an awkward face when Molly kissed his cheek as she did to all her children, even the somewhat adopted ones like Harry and Hermione. Hermione covered her smirk and giggle with her hand. He tried to make another protest about not ready for so much walking only to be countered with the statement that he needed the exercise and practice. There was no way out, or rather back in to hiding.

On the plus side, he would have an opportunity to find out the state of his finances.

Hermione stepped right up close to him and put her arm around his waist. He stiffened and blushed. “Sorry, I am still not used to apparating others. I don’t ever want to go through seeing someone splinched.”

He winced. “Who got splinched?”

“Ron, back in the war.”

Draco was a master at apparating. If only he had his wand, then this would not be necessary. “You won’t splinch me. Here.” He adjusted their position. “Apparating takes in a three foot diameter. When you are picturing the location you want to be, picture both of us clearly in your mind already safely in that place, then apparate.” He hoped his instructions were good. They were much like the ones his mother had given him while helping practice apparating. “An always tell the person you are apparating to exhale. The dumb ones sometimes end up having a scream ripped from them and that could be very humiliating.”

She nodded at his instruction and closed her eyes. He was not remotely worried about being splinched. She was the brightest witch of this era. Even if they had not gotten along in the past seven years, he knew she could do any magic she set her mind to, and do it with perfection and precision. What made him nervous was the scene they were going to apparate to. Who would see him dressed in casual clothes that the average commoner wore. It would be like being caught in the middle of rush hour at the stock exchange in your pyjamas. He took a deep breath and let it out, then firmly curled his fingers around her small wrist to tell her he was ready.

The lurch and pop was familiar. He still felt like his stomach got left behind, but he recovered swiftly. They stood in the midst of a ruined alleyway full of brick and rubble. The destroyed entry to Diagon Alley. But he did not see Diagon Alley. She tapped a few stones, new ones to the ones he knew, and the way in materialized. It was busy. His nerves jumped at the potential humiliation. He pulled the hood of the cloak up to hide under. Maybe no one would notice. He worried what people might think. Would they remember the foul git that tormented their children, became a Death eater, the son of a man from the Dark lord’s inner circle, a young man who attempted to kill Dumbledore? Did anyone know or care what he did in the final and last ditch efforts to redeem himself? Hermione took his hand and tugged him along. They hobbled slowly toward Gringgot’s. Many of the shops were in varying states of repair. He kept his head bowed in shame at his participation in these terrible things.

As he climbed the stairs one painful step at a time, he tried to remember which businesses he had a personal hand in ruining. The name of Malfoy would be a foul one on everyone’s lips for a long time unless he could do something to remedy that. But what? How? There was so much. Inside the bank he revealed himself to the goblin at the desk. There he sat for an hour with the goblin sorting out his own accounts, the Malfoy estate accounts, and his family inheritance. He was glad Hermione was not present to overhear this. Sums of money of this magnitude discussed in light talk like this would make her head spin. At least Malfoy was still one of the wealthiest old pure blood families in existence. Black was the other, although most of the Black family funds were locked until a proper blood heir gave blood proof to access them. Harry didn’t qualify. The goblin asked Draco if he was going to make that claim. It took a second or two to realize that he was indeed the next blood related male in the Black family, being the son of Narcissa (Black) Malfoy. He declined, “Not at the moment. Let it sit there. I need to re-evaluate a great many things before I touch it.” It was tempting though. To unite the Black and Malfoy estates would make him the wealthiest wizard in England, maybe even Europe.

For now, he took out enough galleons to turn Hermione white with shock, not that he would show her or tell her. He also advised that the goblins please inspect the financial debts of the Weasley family and secretly clear them from his accounts. It was a small thank you. He really had no way to properly show his gratitude for what they did for him. He also knew that they were proud enough that if he offered them this token they would refuse it.

Today was his birthday. If no one was going to get him a birthday present, he would get himself one, or rather several. Hermione sequestered herself in the book store to drool over texts she desperately wanted to own and try to devour as much as she could while she waited for him to be done his shopping. First was proper attire. Once well dressed, he felt much better, despite the growing agony in his knee. In a way this was like being born all over again. He had an opportunity to dress as he saw fit and not as his father decreed. The turtleneck he wore was tight and made of silk, though up close you would see it slightly swirled through dark blues and greens with the black. The vest under his new suit jacket was shades of aqua with silver and white gold embroidery. His suit jacket remained simple dull black so the other attire showed off subtly. A pale aqua silk handkerchief was tucked into the pocket of the jacket. His trousers were of the same make as the jacket. His shoes were brogue pattered matt black dragon skin. The wizard over cloak he chose was also simple in its cut and of a dull black outside, charmed against the weather, and black satin on the inside. His mother would love to see him this stylish. His father would call him a peacock unworthy of the Malfoy name. He sniffed at his rebellion.

His next item of business was a new cane and a wand. A wand was out of the question. Olivander’s was still closed. A wand then would have to wait. The cane then. The shop had a great many canes to select from. But for some reason, none appealed to him. Hermione’s chastising words kept coming back into his thoughts. He decided to simple modify the cane he had been given. He had the handle transfigured to be more comfortable for him to hold. He has a silencing charm engraved around the bottom so he didn’t hear it thump or click on the floor, a sound that still sent him into anxiety, even when he was the one making the sound. Those were the only changes. It was a salute to Arthur for helping Draco.

Now he needed to sit as the pain was becoming unbearable. He sat on a bench was watched through the window across the way as Hermione paced with a book in her hand. He tried to remain stoic was people walked passed him and eyed him with recognition. No one spoke to him though. His skin crawled with the mix of uncomfortable stares. When he could stand it no longer, he entered the book shop and sought out Hermione. “Wow! You clean up nice!” she commented. She gave the book a disappointed look and reached to replace it on the shelf.

He stopped her hand and plucked it from her fingers. “My mother raised me to be a gentleman with taste.”

The look she then gave him stabbed painfully as did the words, “wish you had shown that growing up.”

“Ouch! You wound.”

She smirked and followed him to the cash counter. “What are you doing?”

“Buying this,” he stated flatly as he paid for the book she was so deeply engrossed in.

“It is your birthday. You shouldn’t be buying other people things.”

He handed her the book, “I will do what pleases me on my birthday and it pleases me to buy this for you. And now it will please me to find coffee and some chocolate sweets of quality.”

She chuckled behind her fingers and accepted the gift. Draco was sure that her one and only love was books and no man would ever be able to truly compete. No wonder she and Ron broke it off. He did not have enough of an appreciation of that which held her heart and mind.

They sat in a café that was newly built after buying some of the most expensive sweets she had ever even seen. A galleon a truffle! She protested and he insisted. There was something amazing about watching her enjoy one with total wonderment. He didn’t realize he was smiling while watching her till she mentioned it, “You should smile more often.” Why she had to rip out the rug of confidence so easily from under him, he had no idea. She seemed to have been a master of that tactic through the years. “Do you like your birthday so far?”

He found himself smiling again, “Yes. Thank you for taking me out. It isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Well, except for the pain. That’s starting to get distracting.”

“We’ll go after this. Everyone should be ready by now.”

“Go? I really hope no one is throwing me a party or anything,” that notion really made him feel both guilty and scared and lonely.

“No, this is not a party, just something well overdue.” She apparated them to a small field he recognized. The Weasleys were all present. Harry and Luna and some other people he didn’t recognize. Children ran over the grass or flopped on picnic blankets.

He scanned the grounds. It was the part of the gardens of Malfoy Manor close to both the garden maze, bush sculptures, and the family cemetery. He felt an ice cube drop into his stomach.

Hermione took his arm again. “These people are those who hold you close like family and those whose lives you saved. This part of the grounds have been rendered safe. They figure that by next Christmas, though more likely next summer, the house will be safe too. An auror died just walking on the front steps.”

Of course the auror died. The dark Lord had been so furious with the Malfoy failings that he ruined and cursed the house so badly that it would probably kill a Malfoy. He sighed at the reality chack. And yet, here he was, walking on the grass of his home. Hermione guided him through the garden. He forgot the pain in his knee when he realized where she had guided him. Harry stood there beside the stone marker. A grave. Draco’s mothers.

Draco limped over to the grave, the world and people around him forgotten as well. He touched the stone and read the epitaph:

 _Narcissa Black Malfoy_  
Loving wife and mother  
1955 – 1998

 _A mother’s love is the most powerful of ancient magic._  
It can save a life and alter the course of the future.  
Never underestimate the heroism of a mother  
who loves her son.

Draco’s hand covered his mouth to try to quiet the shaking that came into his breathing. He sank to his knees, regardless of the pain, dropping the cane. He was given space and to grieve. Harry and Hermione waited. When he felt more in control, he wiped his face and nose with the silken handkerchief. He stood with some help and accepted the cane from Hermione’s hand. From birth to death in one day. It felt much like apparating for the first time.

Harry held out a box. “Luna couldn’t do anything from where she had stood on the opposing stair case, but she watched. You mother had given up her wand willingly before she ever intercepted any of your father’s magic. He has no power over this.”

Draco opened the box to discover, “My mother’s wand.”

“I think she meant Luna to find it and so meant you to have it,” Harry explained.

Draco swallowed as he shifted his weight to his stronger leg. “Th-thank you.” He hesitated to test it out. A glance back at his mother’s grave and he chose to test it there. A small flick and transfiguration charm and her favourite day lilies bloomed at her grave.

The three of them walked slowly to the picnic blankets to share tea and birthday cake with everyone gathered. There were no other gifts, but Draco didn’t need or want any. He already had more than he could have ever wished for in this moment. Friends, real friends. Closure. And hope for a future however uncertain it might be.

Also, he had the pleasure of being present for a great many cheers when Bill and Fleur announced Fleur’s pregnancy.


	9. Change

CHAPTER 9 – CHANGE

Draco now had a wand, his mother’s wand. He had the freedom to go wherever he pleased, whenever he pleased. He just had nowhere to go. The Weasleys once again took him in, of course. Able to move about better with the cane, he joined them for meals. His manners differed greatly from theirs. He never compromised them, except that he did start to engage in some of the dinner table talk.

In his home, his father forbid such a thing at the table. Draco was to be seen and not heard. _When I am dead, Draco, then you can talk at this table._ Draco considered this a moment while listening to the political discussion between Arthur and Bill and Percy. As far as Draco was concerned, his father was dead. He threw in his opinion.

Draco had a keen grasp of politics, finance, and business. Better than even some of the adults at the table for he had insight from a very different side of those playing fields. On the nights that some guests came for dinner, the talk sometimes shifted to dark magic and how to deal with it. There, too, he had insight that proved very helpful. Draco knew more about dark magic than most were comfortable with, and he grew keenly aware of their discomfort.

On and off during the summer weeks, little Teddy joined the chaos of the Weasley household. Sometimes it went well. Often it did not. Teddy was very emotional, scared and angry. At the full moons he was out of control. At the dark moons he seemed barely alive. He was more than a handful for any couple and sometimes for even this whole huge family. More often than not he ran through the house smashing things and growling and screaming for his mom or dad. He refused to listen to anyone. On the days he went back into one institution or another, he was worse. He started to bite people. On his quieter moments, he would curl up in only Hermione’s lap.

Today was not a good day for Teddy while he visited. A specialist was due in town in three or four days. The family had been talking about it. The child had turned four on July 12th and Draco was certain the boy totally understood he would be shuffled off yet again. He remembered understanding things at the age of four. And so Teddy was especially out of control this full moon.

In one of his part shifted to wolf run and snarls through the house, Draco had enough with the lack of discipline. If the child was going to behave like a dog, he was about to get treated like one and learn that there are acceptable and unacceptable limits. As teddy tore past Draco, who was on the sofa, Draco’s hand shot out as fast as if he were catching the snitch. He gripped a fistful of fur, hair and an ear. Teddy yelped and screamed and cried. “SHUT IT! SIT!” When teddy snapped and tried to bite Draco, he got firmly cuffed. And Draco held the child thus till the struggling stopped. Molly was practically beside herself, but Bill prevented her from interfering. “Teddy Lupin, you will learn manners if I have to beat them into you. You want someone to be nice to you. EARN IT! Calm down.”

The child sank to the floor sniffling. “Are you calm?” asked Draco with a heavy warning in his tone that there would be more firmness if the answer was no. Teddy scrubbed his nose with his sleeve. Draco wrinkled his nose at how disgusting that was. Teddy sniffled more and shifted back into human form, his small hand plucking weakly at Draco’s grip. He let out a small whimper. “Better.” Draco let him go and stroked the boy’s hair gently to reassure him he was not mad. Teddy watched him with stormy blue eyes. “Molly? May I please have something to wipe his nose? It is gross.”

That one second of distraction was all Teddy needed. He climbed into Draco’s lap and clung there. Draco threw his arms up in surprise. He wrinkled his nose at the wet nose that now rubbed into his shoulder. “This would be a good time to hug him back,” suggested Molly as she came to clean up Teddy’s face. Draco held the boy who protested. A warning look from Draco kept teddy in check, just barely. The forced timeout in Draco’s lap soon found Teddy dosing off. The warm snuggling boy in sleepiness seemed contagious as Draco too dosed off on the sofa.

Bill, who had been taking pictures of Fleur in the garden with her pregnant glow, snapped a shot of this adorable scene. After all, no one would EVER believe Draco could be caught like this. Also, no one would ever believe teddy to be this good and quiet.

Over the few days, there were several repeats of such displays of needed discipline. Teddy started to learn the limits and boundaries, at least around Draco. Hermione too tolerated little bad behaviour. Teddy knew he could and would get spanked by her. He guarded his bum carefully when she was around.

At the dinner table, Teddy learned more discipline. Here Draco and Molly cross forks over how to handle the boy. “Molly, he is old enough to not starve from a missed meal or a cold one. He will learn to be civil at a table or he will be hungry.”

“Draco, this is my home and I will not have a single soul in it going hungry for any reason.”

Draco countered her, “Then he will never learn what is right and wrong at a dinner table. Because clearly, they have treated him like an animal and encouraged that behaviour in those… those… _institutes_.” The words sounded like a curse, as if he said mudblood.

Molly could not argue with that. They all often suspected that he was often in a room with no one, nothing, and a plate of food on the floor. But no one would or could take him in. And even the Weasleys reached their wits end with him after a couple weeks.

The next morning, the new specialist from Germany came for teddy. He was interning at a local institute here in England and decided to accept studying the child. Draco watched from the window as the screaming child was dragged away. His grip on his cane was white knuckled. His lips pursed in fury while a hundred dark magic hexes flitted through his thoughts.

“Draco, dear. You cannot change this.” Molly tried to comfort the angry blond.

“Why not! My mother bade me be the change. Why can I not change this?” He thought about how influential he had started to become over the weeks as he re-established himself and the Malfoy name in society. It just didn’t seem like enough. They still regarded him as a child in some ways and didn’t entirely take him seriously. He knew Molly was right. He could not change Teddy’s situation. Not yet anyways.

“Draco, you can’t change this, but there are other things you can change. Things that could help you make those changes you want to see.” She combed her fingers through his hair.

He wanted to shrug her off, but turned to look at her, demanding with his eyes to know what she was about to suggest.

“Hogwarts is almost finished. Why don’t you go back and redo your seventh year.”

He blinked in shock at the ridiculous suggestion. He knew enough to pass the exams now. He didn’t need to take the classes and said as much.

“Everyone knows that. But you would be starting a change that is really important. If you, who everyone knows can pass this without redoing it goes back, then it says you have faith and realize there is something yet worth learning. It will encourage others who really do need to go back to go.” She meant people like Harry and Ron whose grades sucked and who desperately needed to redo that seventh year.

“And I thought you were sorted into Gryffindor,” he mused at her. She smiled sweetly back. “If I am the first, others will follow. And by doing this I build up a more positive reputation based on my conduct there. And that reputation will help snowball changes I want to see. And it gives me somewhere to be that is not here.” He relaxed as the ideas started to roll through his conniving mind. “Not that you are trying to get rid of me and not that I want to shirk your hospitality, which has been incredibly. But I’m bored here and have nothing I can do. And at Hogwarts, I might be able to do a lot.”

“You could be a role model for many in the other years.”

He looked out into the yard. Teddy and the German specialist were gone. “Who is headmaster?”

“Minerva MacGonegall.”


	10. Letters

CHAPTER 10 – LETTERS

Draco did not want to admit how cowardly he really had been of late, hiding out in the Weasley home. But now as he sat and wrote letters, he was faced with this very notion of himself. Now he must face the outside world and not just through the occasional correspondence with his bank or visits from people he had grown familiar with while healing from his terrible injuries. He had to accept that he was a man, an adult, with responsibilities to the Malfoy manor, accounts, and thus to the people of England as a Malfoy. The worst part was the part where he understood Harry the most. All through his growing up, he had envied Harry for being one of the Golden Trio, a hero. He wanted to be seen as a hero. Now he was and it terrified him. One mistake could so easily ruin the Malfoy name now.

There was his reality check. The Malfoy name was already in ruins thanks to his father. It rested in Draco’s hands to change that. It was just easier hiding behind others.

He must have written these letters a dozen times before he had the courage to set them free. He found it relieving in a way when his very own eagle owl sensed his need to deliver them and flew to the window to wait, right on cue. “Hello old friend. I have several for you. You will be very busy going back and forth tonight.” He saved a piece of meat from dinner and fed it to the eagle owl.

With every nerve twitchy, the wounds that refused to heal swiftly or even at all hurt a thousand fold. He shook the potion bottle of the painkiller that Hermione had made for him. It was getting low. He had considered asking for more as his hands were not quite yet steady enough for him to brew his own potions. No, he had to brave the waves of pain and stretch it a little longer. This would be a plot of manipulation for the media. He was going to make a few very big statements if everything did actually go according to his planning. Hermione will certainly have words for him on all this later. He hoped she would understand after.

He frowned to himself. When did he care what she thought? Why did he care? Then he tried to think about what it would be like without her in his life in some way. She could be very ornery, very annoying, definitely demanding. Such the goody-tooshoes. She was away with Harry at Grimauld Place at the moment. He felt alone without them here. It was always more awkward without the buffer of them. He often wondered if those two were getting it on, becoming a couple, now that she was not with Ron and Harry was not with Ginny. There was nothing in any of their public interactions that gave away anything other than that they were just very good and close friends, though. Why should he even care about that? It was not his business. In the end, he was alone. It seemed to always be that way. Unless he wanted to uphold the marriage to Pansy that was arranged for him when he was three.

He groaned and took out some paper. That was another letter he had to write. Pansy would be eighteen soon and he would be obliged to marry her if he did not deal with this now. He really really did not want to marry her. He shuddered to think of her as his wife. This was perhaps the easiest of the letters to write.

Each letter bore the wax seal with the pressed symbol of his family crest from his family signet ring, a gift from his mother on his sixteenth birthday.

 

FIRST LETTER

_Head Mistress MacGonegall,_

_I understand that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy will be ready to welcome students once more to its grounds this coming September. This is very good news for the wizarding world._

_I know that my sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts were far from shining examples of my attendance and participation, the proof that I had lost my Prefection understandable. I wish to make up for this and return to repeat my seventh year. I understand that I will need to write a set of entrance examinations to figure out what I remember and how much I have forgotten as well as to properly place me according to my grades and willingness to learn. I expect nothing less. I hope that in the subsequent interviews, should you accept my request to return, will prove to you the changes I am willing to make to be a better role model to those in the younger years._

_Please consider this my formal request for re-entry as a student in Slytherin House seventh year._

_Sincerely and humbly,_  
_Draco Malfoy_  
 _Heir and Master of House Malfoy and Family_

 

SECOND LETTER

_Attention: Mr. Darius Ashgrove  
Estates  & Inheritance Management_

_In light of the death of my mother, Narcissa Malfoy, and the total abandonment of home and family and responsibility of my father, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy; I find myself in need of making secure arrangements. I expect to meet with you, our family retainer, at the home of Arthur Weasley on Tuesday July 20 th at 10h00. Bring with you all deeds and wills in order along with the compendium of Malfoy Family Laws._

_If it is at all possible, acquire the same for the Black family as I hold Blood Heirship there as well._

_Leave at your office your opinions and attitudes or I will “terminate” your employment and find a new family retainer._

_Draco Malfoy  
Heir and Master of House Malfoy and Family_

 

THIRD LETTER

_Dr. Gregor Shmeiss,_

_You and I have met at the Weasley home when you collected the orphan wolf child, Teddy Lupin. I understand that you are currently in charge of studying his condition. As one of the people in charge of his human education and care, as well as the individual about to pay you well for your findings, I expect you to deliver him to me every weekend wherever I may be._

_The family of Malfoy is officially taking stake in this study. I expect you to attend a meeting here at the Weasley home on Tuesday July 20 th at 11h00. Bring the child with you. I wish to keep him till the following Monday. Bring with you a letter of your credentials and a list of any and all needs you might have to fully engage in your study._

_Draco Malfoy  
Heir and Master of House Malfoy and Family_

 

FOURTH LETTER

_Mr. Donald Prescott,_

_Congratulation on your new post in the Federal Social Assistance Agency for the Care and Welfare of Children. In reparation for damages that my family has so foolishly engaged in for now two wars, please accept the forthcoming donation to help offset costs I can only imagine are devastatingly high for the provision of so many after this most recent war. I cannot apologize enough and there is little that I know can properly compensate for my father’s abhorrent acts._

_Upon my mother’s death, she bade me to be the change the world needs. The family of Malfoy will begin that change. As its last living member worthy of any note, I will try to begin that change. I know I cannot change the world overnight. I know I cannot save every life. I beg you though to help me save at least one._

_Please look into the affairs of the orphan, Teddy Lupin, son of Remus Lupin and Ninfadora Tonks. He is currently in the Elizabeth Institute under the study of Dr. Gregor Shmeiss. I am in correspondence with Dr. Shmeiss as I work with him and the Weasley family to arrange the child’s care. I wish to be more involved. As an adult member of society now, I have the right to request formal adoption. I am considering this possibility. However, I do not yet think I am fully ready for that responsibility. I am intending on returning the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to repeat my seventh and final year of study first. I also need to put my own house in order. I do not, though, wish to see young Teddy Lupin fall through the cracks. Is there any arrangements we could formally make to ensure that does not happen? I have a great many other questions and concerns._

_Finally, I have set up a special fund for children in need of education to sponsor them to study at Hogwarts. If you have a list of such children, please allow me to extend this opportunity for a selection of them. This scholarship fund will be available for 10 such students annually, starting this September._

_If there is any legal paperwork I need to sign or details we need to discuss, please accept my invitation to meet on Tuesday July 20 th at noon._

_Sincerely and humbly_  
_Draco Malfoy_  
 _Heir and Master of House Malfoy and Family_

 

FIFTH LETTER

_Attention Daily Prophet,_

_Rumor:_

_Draco Malfoy intends to return to Hogwarts.  
Gringotts has noted his assignment of funds to the Federal Social Assistance Agency for the Care and Welfare of Children as well as scholarships for ten children to the school. Also, arrangements seem to be in the works for his potential adoption of the orphaned Teddy Lupin, suspected werewolf child of Remus Lupin, a known werewolf. _

_Letters were intercepted from the Weasley home to these effects._

_Apparently Draco Malfoy will be meeting with Mr. Donald Prescott on Tuesday July 20 th at noon. _

_Good luck finding someone discrete enough and able to be welcomed in by the Weasley family to get the truth to these rumors._

_Anonumously signed  
(no seal)_

 

LATER, SIXTH AND FINAL LETTER

_To the family of Parkinson,_

_I, Draco Malfoy, am nullifying any and all marriage arrangements to Pansy without recourse. After the horrors of this latest war, I find it both unfair and cruel to your daughter to oblige her to marry someone she may not truly have affections for and who in turn does not have affections for her. She is a bright and beautiful girl with great potential. However, I am in no state either mentally, emotionally or physically at this time to consider this arrangement. The family of Malfoy will not request the return of any dowry paid and does not intend or mean any shame upon the family of Parkinson. This annulment is meant to free both myself and Pansy to consider matches better suited to both our families post-war where the world is now quite a different place. I hope we might still remain friends and might have the opportunity to cross paths at Hogwarts as I hope to attend and retake my seventh year of study there in order to be better prepared to step into this new world._

_Sincerely and with blessing,_  
_Draco Malfoy_  
 _Heir and Master of House Malfoy and Family_


	11. Replies

CHAPTER 11 – REPLIES

Minerva received the owl very early in the morning. She noted the white gold band on the eagle owl’s ankle with the small charm that identified the bird as belonging to the Malfoy family, namely Draco. While she had kept abreast of Draco’s condition and state of mind through the Weasleys, this letter came as a surprise. Draco had become such a hermit that she doubted he would ever so much as communicate with anyone in the outside world outside of the absolutely necessary for the maintenance of his finances and estate. She remembered too well the traumas endured by similar people from the first war. So many behaved the same after this second war. Hogwarts would be a very quiet and almost empty school come September.

So many were still afraid. If not afraid of the Dark Lord, with the new face of Lucius Malfoy, then afraid of the reactions and counter reactions of their peers depending on what side of the war they sat upon whether by choice or not. And Draco, was one with perhaps the most at stake. He was among those so badly injured that his health and survival was a constant concern.

Minerva broke the personal seal Draco had used, just momentarily noting the small change he had made to include his initials. She read the letter and nearly dropped it. “Oh my!” His tone in his writing was not unlike his tone in his essays. He often came across both brilliant and humble in his assignments that no one but his teacher’s read, filling his conclusions with questions he hoped would be raised for discussion in future classes. She noted the self-depreciation, warranted, but still worrisome. She also noticed his subtle suggestion. Yes, exams would definitely be helpful to re-evaluate all the students as they return for a repeat of the year. It would help to adjust the year’s curriculum this way.

“So, Mr. Malfoy wishes to return.” The idea was inspiring. If he could come back, if he could find the courage to face not just the school and teachers after all he had done and been through, but face the students as well, then so might others. Her old friend, Albus Dumbledore, might be right on this. Perhaps Hogwarts did sort students too young. This kind of courage was very worthy of any Gryffindor, not a Slytherin. She thought that perhaps students should be sorted twice. They grow and sometimes change. Maybe they could benefit from a second sorting. She touched the rim of the sorting hat in consideration, then sat down to reply to Draco Malfoy’s very courteous letter.

She wondered if he would be as shy now with everyone as he was in private meetings with teachers when he was no longer under the influence of his father. Narcissa was a shy and sweet witch, Draco had much of her in him.

_Dearest Mr. Malfoy, Draco,_

_It is with great honour that I take up this post as headmistress after Albus Dumbledore. I too feel the importance of re-opening the school as soon as possible to not lose any educational momentum and to ensure the readiness of young witches and wizards into this new and uncertain world. They are the future after all, and that includes you._

_I would welcome you indeed to the school. Placement examinations will take place during the first week of school. I expect that without the pressures you were under during your sixth and seventh years here, you will surely prove to be a shining example to others this year. From your earlier grades and essays, I can assume you will pursue deeper studies in potions and charms and transfiguration. If you have any specific career related interests, please send me a note so that I can organize your studies and provide you with a formal letter of acceptance._

_Welcome back to us, Draco Malfoy._

_Sincerely,  
Headmistress Minerva MacGonegall_

 

* * *

 

Mr. Darius Ashgrove was just unlocking his office door to find an all too familiar eagle owl on his office windowsill looking quite annoyed for having to wait. Ashgrove’s blood turned to ice and the coffee in his stomach solidified to stone. A Malfoy had finally communicated with him. He worried which one. He dreaded that it might be any of them. He had hoped that maybe they had all miraculously died.

This was the problem with blood bound debts and blood signed contracts. His father had sealed the family fate to serve retainer to the Malfoys till one family or the other died out. Lucius was a difficult and dangerous man to work for. An error had cost Ashgrove his eldest son who was imprisoned in Malfoy Manor for Lucius’ own uses. Ashgrove shuddered remembering the mutilated body that had been returned to him several months later. He had a daughter now, of eleven, ready for school and he struggled to figure out how to educate her alone. His work was overwhelming and complicated. Her mother was beyond ill under the hospital care. He was in the process of weighing accepting her passing and letting her go or struggling on to try to keep her alive.

Now a Malfoy had sent word to him, likely of service. His shaking hand retrieved the letter from the regal owl. The seal was not that of Lucius. He had never seen this seal, yet it held much of the same familiar elements. The eagle owl scratched and preened. It would not leave till he replied. Damn. Ashgrove broke the seal and read the letter.

Interesting and yet still dangerous. Draco Malfoy wanted to put the family business into order. _Leave my opinions and attitudes behind?_ Ashgrove bristled. _Pompous prat!_ He swallowed back his curses as if the young Malfoy might hear his thoughts from here. The end of that sentence was quite clear. Termination meant total execution of his family. He glanced at his daughter’s picture and sank into his desk chair. So he would serve a new Malfoy then.

He took out paper and quill. This was both intensely nerve wracking and potentially lucrative. Was the son really as bad as the father? The warning lay in writ, but Ashgrove in the depths of himself was as greedy as his fore fathers. He penned a carefully worded reply.

_Greetings Master Malfoy,_

_Please accept my condolences for your losses. I will of course meet with you on Tuesday July 20 th at 10h00 with all papers in order and ready for your thorough perusal. I will come with both the Malfoy and Black deeds, wills and Family Laws. Although, please understand that I only have in my possession the Laws dating to when my family signed contract with your own. The older Family Laws are blood sealed within the two estates and are not available to me. I can explain, of course, how to find and access them as I assume your parents have not._

_In Service,  
Mr. Darius Ashgrove_

 

* * *

 

Dr. Gregor Shmeiss offered the hungry child before him some food. The wary child snatched it and ran back into a corner growling and sniffling. He had been watching the child without interfering too much to see how the child reacted to the new environment. Poorly, though not as if he was a senseless wild creature, more like a scared and upset one stolen from a loving home. He was not quite ready to say what this child was, not after reviewing the earlier studies. Many referred to the child as an it, not a he. Many discussed the anamorphic abilities, with the werewolf parenthood. The details of insanity were graphically described of the child’s behaviour over full moons with melancholic behaviour over dark moons.

The German doctor sighed with annoyance at the rudimentary studies, annoyed with their lack of professionalism. They really were not very thorough and clearly had no background in psychology. He had extensive background in both the wizarding and muggle world and had worked in both. The opportunity to study a child of a werewolf was worth financial destitution. He remained sitting very still on his stool in the small room where some blankets, a child’s bed, a few age appropriate toys, and some now very shredded books scattered the surroundings. He nibbled quietly from a plate and proffered bits to the child now and then trying to build a slow trust. The child was not wild, but nor was he tame. And in a few days, it would be the full moon and the child would likely be out of control. According to the studies, he was not contagious. This too was incredibly fascinating.

A tap at the door alerted him to a potential intruder. It was a nurse from the Elizabeth Institute where he had his tiny grant to study this child. “Dr. Shmeiss, there is an owl in your office with a letter.”

He adjusted the little round glasses on his nose and set the plate on the floor beside the stool. Normally he would have removed the small stool, but chose to leave it. He stepped out and slid open the observatory window on the door. He would watch the child after he read the letter.

In his office the large eagle owl walked gracefully across the desk and helped itself to a treat. It protected the letter from anyone who might try to touch it. The peck marks on the nurse’s hand was proof of the bird’s fierce loyalty. Dr. Shmeiss regarded the intelligent bird. “Guten Tag, noble owl. I am Dr. Shmeiss. May I have the letter?” The owl lifted it with his beak and hopped closer so the doctor may retrieve it. _Always offer respect, even if the creature is not so intelligent. They can read your mannerisms and will judge you accordingly._

He looked at the seal not recognizing it as anything other than one from a pure blood wealthy family. He did not know the English blood lines, but wondered what one might want with him. He read through the letter twice and then thought deeply trying to properly place the person who sent it. Oh yes, the well-dressed noble man at the Weasley estate where he had fetched the child. A tall, thin, injured blond with pointed features and sharp wary ice blue eyes. A wounded soul if ever he saw one. But that man was not his patient and seemed too proud to accept the kind of help Dr. Shmeiss could offer, for now. The young man, however made an offer he could not refuse. Money. Money to study this interesting child. It was likely a better grant than the tiny one he was swiftly exhausting. And, it looked like it could be long term. It came with strings, but not any he felt would interfere with the study.

This wealthy heir of Malfoy made an offer and expected him to comply. He was being asked to prove himself. Maybe the young man was ignorant of who he was. He could not fault him. Many were here in England. He did think it very peculiar that this Draco Malfoy wanted the child over the full moon period. Brave man. Very well. He penned a short reply.

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_I have barely had time to establish any relationship with my subject of study. Teddy Lupin is a distrusting child. I suspect it is due to the frequent and irregular care given him by previous institutions with lesser quality and lesser qualification to handle his unique case. I will of course provide you with my credentials and meet with you at the desired time with the child in hand. Be aware, you are asking to mind him over the full moon. I expect you know what you are doing. We can discuss the details of your offer when I arrive. I hope to prove a better and more stable influence in assisting to reintegrate this child into normal society._

_Dr. Gregor Shmeiss  
Psychologist / Mind-healer_

The doctor released the eagle out from his office with his reply and returned to the door of the child’s room. He peaked in with a smile. There, sitting upon the stool in almost perfect mimicry, was Teddy nibbling on the remains of the lunch with his fingers. His face and hands totally messy as only a four-year-old’s could be when they chose to eat with their fingers. He observed that the child still sniffled and whimpered as he ate though. Such recent loss. Trauma such as these with the unusual shapeshifting must be very hard indeed on the child.

 

* * *

 

 

A young man, lean with thin brown hair, paced his ministry office. He ran his fingers through his hair as he thought through his next decisions. At the age of twenty-three, Donald Prescott never expected he would be sitting as head of anything, let alone this pile of painful chaos. He was perhaps the best equipped to handle it, but it did not mean it was easy. There were just so many cases of broken homes and families and orphaned children, including the ones whose parents were now being locked up in Azkaban. It created sensitive and delicate situations.

At every turn, the Daily Prophet seemed to be present. They kept pace with him everywhere. He didn’t particularly like the media attention, but sometimes it proved helpful in finding lost families, or digging up some sympathy to provide support for those in need. It also sometimes painted a great big target upon him, or his clients. There just was not enough money, not enough homes, too many children. He threw his arms in the air, declaring that he gives up. Not that he really gave up, just gave up for the moment. He needed a coffee.

A peck at his window made him jump. He exclaimed in frustration and debated yelling at the messenger. He slammed open the window. The eagle owl fluttered and beat its wings indignantly for balance, then settled with a talon grip on the sill. One grouchy insignificant human was not about to upset this owl. It blinked at him a moment and thrust its letter into his hands. He looked down at the seal on the letter. His eyes widened, then glanced at the band on the bird’s ankle and back at the letter.

“Oh crap.”

Just what he needed, more pure blood drama and frustrations. He wondered why the Malfoys were sending him a death threat now and why they hadn’t done so sooner. At least it was not a howler. He had three of those today already. This letter was unusually long. He read it through. Then he read it through again as he walked right into his closed door. “Dammit!” he opened the door and walked and read till he retrieved his coffee and returned to his office, eyes still glued in shock and disbelief to the letter in his hand. The eagle owl groomed patiently on the sill.

“I’ll… I’ll be bloody damned. An apology, out of a Malfoy.” Clearly this young Draco had written off the dangerous Death eater father of his. Prescott recalled the discussions with Arthur Weasley about Draco’s situation. He was especially grateful for Arthur’s volunteering to take on that problem. The father cursed the son to a life of torture and death. It was pure miracle the young man survived at all. He sat at his desk with letter and coffee and read again. “Ah yes. Teddy Lupin. That is another nightmarish case. No one wants the child of a werewolf, even if he is not contagious.”

He shook his head and reread. _Donation?_ Malfoy was making a donation to his department. This was shocking and thrilling at the same time! The department desperately needed funding. He had to nod understanding to Draco’s naked acceptance of his own condition and state of affairs, yet respect the choices the young man was trying to make. Go back to school, that was incredibly courageous, for a Malfoy. Adopt Teddy Lupin, another very courageous move. He wondered if there were political statements there. But then, considering what Draco had gone through, maybe there was simply buried compassion now permitted to be revealed. Prescott would have considered Draco one of the kids who fell through the cracks. Had someone noticed or reported the abuses done by father to son much earlier, would things have been different? Didn’t Prescott ask himself this question a hundred times a day?

Finally he registered through to the bottom. Financial sponsorship for education for ten kids a year. That too was a significant help. It also gave him a very manipulative idea. If the pure bloods all did such a thing as Malfoy was doing, he would have enough to stabilize almost every case of ruined childhood. He tucked that idea in his back pocket. He accio-ed a notepad and jotted down a list. Donation to the Agency. Case file for Teddy Lupin. Adoption forms and procedure handbook. Fostering arrangement forms. Top ten most in need under-aged witches and wizards. “So, Malfoy, you might adopt, eh? I am shocked by your blatant honesty to your situation. And since you do not want to see this child fall through the cracks any more than I do, I will bring what I can as options.”

He sipped his cold coffee and sputtered a curse. A flick of a wand and he charmed his coffee hot again.

_Mr. Draco Malfoy,_

_You do me honour with your letter and your offer. I appreciate the donation and assure you it will be put to very good use. For what it is worth, I accept the apology you do not think you have the right to give. It takes a brave man to admit his failings to himself. It takes a braver one to admit them to someone else. Let’s work together to try to avoid anyone else from falling through the cracks as you have. Change starts with ourselves. Change the one and it slowly begins to cascade to change the many. We do not live in isolation._

_I appreciate your effort to do all you can for Teddy Lupin. And, I appreciate your honesty about your intentions and goals. I will bring his case file with me and some options you might want to consider. He is a special case, as you must know, with the werewolf blood and the challenges he presents with that difficulty in his blood. I caution you with your choices, but at the same time, I encourage you._

_Tuesday is not that far off, I won’t have an adequately sorted list of those in need for your offer of sponsorship, but I think I could accommodate that by the end of the month. I will contact Headmistress Minerva with your intent and work out a list with her._

_See you at the Weasleys’ on Tuesday,  
Mr. Donald Prescott_

He sealed the letter with his new ministry wax seal and handed it to the eagle owl. His day just took a shining turn for the better!

 

* * *

 

At the Daily Prophet, an under-writer ran through the cubicles to the head editor waving a note in his hands. He skidded to a halt at the scathing look from the editor and rocked excitedly on the balls of his feet. “This had better be good.” He disliked the youth running through the offices like a child, even though he practically was one.

“Oh it is sir… it is about Draco Malfoy!”

That caught the editor’s attention. “Come inside and close the door.” The second the door closed, the editor cast a silencing charm on the room to block eavesdroppers. The youth read the anonymous note aloud to the editor, his excitement barely contained as he read. This was the biggest news of the week. And indeed, as the anonymous tipper said, it would be a very delicate matter. The editor tapped a finger on his bearded chin trying to think of the most sensitive and discrete human interest writer he had.

“Ask Stephen Cornfoot to come in here.”

Stephen was perfect. He was shy, sensitive, quiet, observant, intelligent and Draco’s peer. Stephen was also his nephew and he thought to himself that if, just by chance IF this rumour was true that Draco Malfoy was returning to Hogwarts, maybe it would inspire his nephew to reconsider and also return, thus graduating with his other Ravenclaw classmates if they too returned.

 

* * *

 

 

That evening at dinner in the Parkinson household, Pansy’s mother read the letter from Draco. It was with mixed feelings that she broke the news to Pansy. Her daughter seemed disappointed, yet relieved. Pansy was secretly relieved that Draco did not act the usual prat and declare her sexual indiscretion as his reason for breaking things. Her mother was relieved that her daughter would no longer be even remotely attached to the name of Malfoy now. That name carried much weight and was also a great target. After all, Lucius did try to make a second attempt on the boy’s life while Draco was in hospital. She did not want her daughter a target of Lucius Malfoy and grudgingly and silently thanked Draco for that consideration.

As wealthy as the Parkinsons had been, though, now they were on the brink of destitution due to Pansy’s father’s involvement with the Death eaters and his subsequent imprisonment. Pansy’s mother thought about Draco’s mentioning that he was returning to Hogwarts.

“Pansy, I am sending you back to school. You will redo your seventh year. And no, you have no leeway to argue with me. I know what you have done in the darkened corners of those halls. I will let the new Head of Slytherin know to keep a closer eye on you. I expect you to finish well with good grades. We need to find you a husband with fine repute and good money.”

Pansy winced in humiliation. How did mothers find out these things?


	12. The Fall

CHAPTER 12 – THE FALL

**Thursday Night:**

All of Draco’s letters were delivered and all the expected replies came in. He sat on his bed reading through them. Now and then his jaw clenched or he ground his teeth, not at what he read, but at the aching he felt. The chilly rain that started outside must be messing with his injuries.

**Friday After Dinner:**

The Weasleys were all heading out for a much needed eight day holiday to visit Percy and his new home north at the border of Scotland. Draco reassured them all he would be fine, even with the business things coming up in the week on Tuesday. Harry and Hermione promised to drop in now and then to check on him and make sure he doesn’t starve to death. He gave them an annoyed look that he may not have house elves, but he wasn’t a complete ninny. Truly, though, they and a few others had been scheduled to ensure his safety in case Lucius decided to dare an attack here. Although, rumour was that Lucius was still in Europe, beyond the British wizarding borders. Draco prayed that a dragon would eat his father, a man he now no longer even called father.

The rain eased for a couple days, but was due to start up again. England, sun 20% of the year and chilly rain the rest. Draco liked his manor with the climate control on the inside. With the Weasleys now gone, he felt even more like a stranger in a strange home, even though he had been here now from end of April till mid-July. He tried not to show how much he ached and hurt to Harry and Hermione. He remembered how he used to play at over-reacting an injury to curry favour from his father and how the Golden Trio would scoff at him as a baby and a whiner. He wanted them now to see he was neither. His injuries were genuine this time, but he deemed them endurable.

He still had stitches and appointments with both wizard and muggle doctors. His next appointment was due the next Friday when he would likely get the remaining stitches removed from all wounds but his left forearm. Gods, how he wanted those itching bits of string out of him. The forearm no longer bled, but only a doctor could tell if it was really healed enough to remove the stitches. The break in it was healed for the most part and his arm was strong enough to use the cane. He refrained from picking at the bandaging or at any stitches. It was both a rude and disgusting habit he would never do in public. His ribs still ached a little, but worst was his right knee. There were some sensitive questions he wanted to ask the doctors about the damage from hip to knee. _Will I be able to walk normally ever again? Can I fly, on a broom? Not asking the muggle doctor that one! Will I be able to have sex?_ That was a valid question. When your body gets sliced up and bones broken and there are stitches that close to your privates, you have to ask!

**Saturday Morning:**

He sat in a chair reading through a potions text while Hermione brewed. They debated ingredients and amounts while she and he modified a potion to try to help him with the healing of his forearm.

“It might turn out to be a great pain salve for your other injuries, if we get some ingredients from the hospital to add to it,” she suggested.

“I am hoping to not need anything more soon,” he tried not to sound so clipped. He wanted to tell her to see about getting those ingredients as the chilly rain threatened again. At least he had a wand and could charm the rooms warm and the fire in the fireplace hot. He hurt and just wanted it to end.

Hermione left around lunch with a promise to come back Sunday night with Harry. He tried to be all “whatever” about it. When she was gone, though, he felt intensely alone. So alone it almost scared him. He kept a light on in every room he would potentially use. He wished he could call her back to stay. That would look and sound so wrong no matter how he phrased it. Besides, he was beginning to wonder as many did if she and Harry were developing into a couple with the amount of time she and he spent alone in Grimauld Place. It wasn’t really his business. It just made him feel even more alone.

**Sunday Afternoon & Night:**

He accidentally spilled his tea on the stairs while carefully balancing it and using the cane to climb one step slowly at a time. In an attempt to counter the overbalance and not spill more, his cane slipped in the liquid on the steps. The cup dropped, his right hand shot out for the rail, the stairs swirled swiftly into view.

Draco regained consciousness who knew how long later at the bottom instead of the top of the stairs. The tea cup was shatters all down the stairs. His cane was out of reach. Agony exploded in many places as awareness of what happened rushed back to his waking mind. He panted in his growing panic. He rolled to his side to try to get up and cried out loudly. Black spots danced before his eyes. Alone in pain on the floor, he could do nothing but lie there and try not to breathe too deeply. His spirit sat on the fence between hating his own body and hating his father for rending him a cripple like this. He dared not move, not an inch, for the amount of pain the slightest twitch gave him.

There was a FWOOSH sound from the main room, soon followed by another. “Draco!” yelled a startled Hermione as she rushed to him. Harry too rushed over. Draco tried to say something but only groaned. “No Harry, don’t try to move him. Call the hospital.”

Harry dashed back to the fireplace to use the floo to call Draco’s wizard doctor.

Hermione tried to reassure Draco and asked him some questions. What happened, not because it wasn’t obvious, but more to understand the how. “Spilled… tea… The cane slipped… this after… afternoon.” She carefully queried what hurt to get a vague assessment of his state of being which she relayed to Harry who relayed it to the doctor over the floo fire.

A FWOOSH announced the doctor’s arrival when he deemed to necessary to see for himself. It was a bad fall down the stairs. Knowing the current injuries and noting that many of the new ones simply repeated the old ones, he advised seeing his squib brother. The squib was a muggle doctor and had been overseeing Draco in the muggle world when magical healing failed to help. Draco would need a full x-ray scan so both doctors could confer. The wizard doctor took the floo to his brother’s home and told Hermione and Harry to get Draco to the hospital where they would meet them.

Harry helped Draco up, wincing sympathetically as Draco’s pain was impossible to hide at the moment. Hermione raided Draco’s room for his muggle ID and hospital cards, grabbed up Draco’s cane, then met Harry on the front porch. Harry declined apparating to the hospital as he was not really familiar with it and figured adding a splinching would be bad for Draco. He offered to stay behind and clean up.

Draco leaned heavily on Hermione. He was practically in pyjamas and while a tiny part of him was embarrassed to end up in a public setting like that, everything hurt too much to complain about his pride. He could not lift his right arm at all, the shoulder burned from the neck, over the shoulder blade and through the shoulder. Every inhalation was fire in the right side. He tried to balance on his left a little to ease the stabbing and pinching in his right hip. The right knee, he desperately tried not to think about it and only prayed they did not amputate. He didn’t want to be like Mad-eye Moody with one leg, but amputation was a common practice in England, even today. “Don’t let them take my leg,” he muttered as they apparated.

Hermione assured him she wouldn’t and struggled to get him into the emergency room and sitting. She leaned his cane against the chair next to him and brought his ID to the secretary’s desk announcing they were here to see Draco’s usual doctor. A few questions and the secretary ascertained that Draco had fallen down the stairs and would need x-rays.

He would have said something caustic about the stupidity of muggles if he could have gotten the words past his pain-clenched teeth. He hated the muggle hospitals. Crowded, noisy, lots of flashy lights and strange equipment and no privacy until you were actually taken to a room. It made him nervous, more than, downright scared. His eyes remained locked on Hermione for fear she might end up out of sight leaving him alone here with no one he knew, stuck in the muggle world in a muggle hospital.


	13. Hospital

CHAPTER 13 – THE HOSPITAL

Hospitals are scary places when you are a wizard in a quiet wizard hospital where magic heals you swifter, even if it isn’t instant. For Draco, who has lived a life with everything instant, a muggle hospital was almost beyond terrifying. Usually the doctors have come to him, never this. Never the other way around, not while he was conscious anyways.

Hermione returned to him and took his hand seeing how pale and scared he looked with wide eyes and white lips. An orderly came by with a wheelchair. He gave careful simple instruction and managed to move Draco to the wheelchair with less agony than expected. This might be the first bit of respect Draco could offer a muggle in his current situation. He summoned some decorum, the tiniest ounce of it, and thanked the man. The man looked at him in surprise and gave him a friendly smile. The orderly truly did not think someone in as much pain as Draco would be able to muster manners, most can’t.

Draco practically clung to Hermione’s hand the entire way he was wheeled until they entered a private room where the orderly informed them that the doctor would be here soon. Draco begged her to stay in the room, so Hermione blushed and politely turned her back as the orderly helped Draco into the humiliating hospital gown. The orderly’s light commentary about bruising and swelling worried both Hermione and Draco. He made some note on a form for the doctor to read. It is then that Draco realized the oddity and concluded that the orderly was actually a nurse. He had never expected anyone other than a woman in that field and found he appreciated that it was a man, considering the obligatory nudity he had to endure.

Shaking either from the cold in the hospital or from shock, Draco quietly pleaded for a blanket. Hermione looked over sympathetically and covered him. Again he clutched her hand and she stayed with him till the doctor arrived. It was the muggle, squib, that he had seen before. He had new respect for squibs and muggles after the first few times he met this doctor. The doctor gingerly examined him, and Draco mentally conjured many unforgivable hexes and curses in his mind. Those all vanished as the bed he lay upon was wheeled into a strange room with a giant metal tube with lights that they were apparently going to fed him to.

He lost all sense and wits that moment in terror stricken panic. It took many minutes to restrain and calm him and assure him that all it did was take pictures of the inside of him. In the end, they drugged him into a still stupor. The drugs at least also dulled the pain or somehow made it so he cared not that he was in agony. The pink hippogriffs looked great in their green wizarding robes. The doctor removed the blanket and placed a heavy lead cloth over Draco’s privates to protect them from the imaging rays of the CAT scanner.

About an hour or maybe two later, Draco woke in a bed in a private room. Hermione was sitting beside it holding his hand still. He wondered how long that had been. With awareness, the pain was starting to return as well, though less so. Draco’s wizard doctor was in the room, discreetly stowing away his wand. “I have made some reparations. The shoulder is not broken, but the muscles are in bad shape. Time and care will correct that,” He started to explain. “The hip was easy to fix, though it too has seen muscle and tendon strain. I have provided your girlfriend with a salve recipe she can brew.”

“I’m not his... girlfriend.” / “She not my… girlfriend.”

The doctor chuckled. His brother came in and flicked a light that lit a wall. He tacked up a series of images from the CAT scan. “The results now on file for you, Mr. Malfoy, show strains and bruising. You are very lucky that the only breaks are one cracked rib, though I am sure it feels like the four it was. The knee, I can’t do much for at this time. We could--”

“No! Don’t amputate!” cried Draco, a shrillness lacing his words.

The doctor came over and gently patted his arm, “No no. I was going to say cast it again, but we know that didn’t improve it much before. I’ll provide a brace instead to give you regular support. We took out many of the stitches while you were out. The forearm needs more time though. Be easy. Try maybe to avoid stairs? Hermione has the prescription for pain medicine, salves and instructions for care.”

Draco sighed in defeat. It was back to constant care.

“You should be back to your pre-fall state by the end of the week, I think.”

Draco remembered the questions he had, but considering Hermione’s presence stuttered the three of them out and almost didn’t even voice the sex one. The two doctors exchanged looks that did not bode well. Draco swallowed hard. He didn’t even realize he gripped Hermione’s hand harder.

The wizard doctor finally nodded, “I think your love life will be fine once you get past the majority of the pain, but due to some pains that may be with you for the remainder of your life, expect some interference. As for flying, we’ll see. I am not saying yes, but I am also not saying no. It might prove impossible. Then again, it might prove easier than walking.”

That was the imprisoning statement though. The muggle doctor pointed to the image of Draco’s ruined knee. “I am sorry Mr. Malfoy. This is not reparable. It might have been if your body could have healed via other means, but it resisted all that. You will, with some determination on your part gain a degree of mobility, but I think the cane will be a permanent part of your attire. You will have good days and bad ones as you grow older, but injuries this severe… I am sorry. We have done what we could.”

Draco thumped his head into his pillow. His jaw tensed as he ground his teeth to forcibly maintain composure. “Can I go now?” He asked tightly.

“As soon as the nurse returns with the brace we’ve had measured for you.”

Draco dressed with some help. His knee had been fitted with a brace. He had a light brace for if he were just lingering in the house and relaxing, which he wore now, and a heavier brace he could wear over his pant leg. Hermione assured him she could transfigure it so he could wear it under, though it will still be a bit bulky. He would need to retailer his clothing. His chest was bandaged for the cracked rib. Deep breaths still burned, but that was thankfully easing. His right arm was tied into a sling to take some of the strain off the shoulder muscles. He moodily stood on his own to use his cane. He needed to get out of here, before he lost his composure which was dissolving faster than he was comfortable with.

He hobbled slowly out into the cold damp night air, chin held snobbishly high. No muggle was going to see him in a state of weakness any further. Hermione thought he was being completely ridiculous at this point, but didn’t argue with him. The news he got was not great and must be hard to process. She apparated them back to the Weasleys’. When they stopped at the bottom of the stairs with him looking up at them warily, she offered, “We could open up the sofa to be a sofa bed?” Harry had left a note on the kitchen counter that he would drop in the next morning. Some mail rested with the note. Draco nodded tiredly to his new caretaker.

He dozed on and off through the night. Nightmares woke him often as they usually did, however these included the tube he was eaten by that took pictures of him before spitting him back out. He never wanted to go to a muggle hospital again… or any hospital for that matter. _If I am going to die, please let it be on my feet fighting for … something good. Or let it be in the comfort of my own home._

In the middle of the night he woke in agony. Hermione had held vigil over him and when he woke she brought out the salve she had brewed during his trouble slumber. He sat still while she rubbed his neck, back and shoulder with it. Then she rubbed it gently into his side for the ribs he bruised. A moment of both of them reddening and she rubbed it into his hip. Rubbing it into his knee had him hissing in pain. He breathed for a little bit when she was done before she applied it to all the new bruises he had earned in the fall. He closed his pale blue eyes and simply let her.

She hadn’t really noticed before, but his eyebrows and eye lashes were also blond. His hair was a white blond as usual, but his eyebrows always seemed dark and so she had wondered if maybe he bleached his hair. But up close, she could see the eyebrows were a mix of light brown and blond. His eye lashes were brown yet tipped pale blond. She lightly dabbed some of the salve on a bruise that had formed on his chin from his fall. His hand found hers as it had in the hospital. She paused. He opened his icy eyes that held hers for a long few seconds. “Th… thank you.” It came out as a quiet husky deep whisper. She smiled and offered him a draft to help with the pain and to help him sleep a more solid few hours.


	14. Plots & Plans

CHAPTER 14 – PLOTS & PLANS

The next morning, Draco thought he was dying. He hurt all over. “M…mione?” He moaned out. He looked over to see her curled up in a huge reading chair. A book lay open in her lap with her hand limp on the pages. She was fast asleep. He would have left her thus, except he could not move for the pain. “Mione?” he called a little louder.

She stirred and woke. The morning prescription was to brew a fresh potion that he should take hot with breakfast and later cold with lunch. That would help with the pain while the salves eased swelling and increased healing. She started with the salving. They still blushed when he had to expose his hip. “You are such a prude,” he commented quietly.

“Me? You are the one blushing enough to be visible all over your whole body,” she countered.

That of course made him blush more. He pretended he heard nothing while she salved his wounds. He attempted to stand and she steadied him then gave him the cane. “Need a change of clothes. And… and my paperwork from my desk. And… gods… a bath.” He tried to not sound like he was in agony, maybe if he pretended hard enough it would be true?

“Please,” Hermione prompted. “I am not a house elf.”

He winced. He remembered her SPEW club for the rights of house elves several years back. “Sorry… please. I must be ready for tomorrow.”

“What is tomorrow?” She called from his room while she collected what he needed. It took that whole time for him to get to the main floor bathroom and attend to the calls of nature. She waited till he opened the door again. He needed help setting up the bath and getting in. She just had to wait till he came to that realization and asked. The door opened after a little bit. She came in and set down his change of clothes and started the bath. “Well? What is tomorrow?”

“I… I took some… risks.” He sounded nervous and she wondered what he could possibly have done. He sat on the toilet letting the bath fill. “I asked to return to Hogwarts to repeat my seventh year. MacGonegall agreed to accept me, though I need to do examinations for evaluation. I’d… I’d like to see you there too. I don’t want to be there alone.”

He had humbled himself and she had to appreciate the change and his courage to go back. She had already been considering it. “I was thinking of doing that. I was going to ask to take what NEWTS I could and then use the freed time to study other things.” Because there was never enough to sate her need to learn.

Draco quirked a slight smile, not the usual sneering kind, but the kind she wanted to see on him more often. “I suppose that was the easier risk.”

“Easier? There’s more?”

“Tomorrow at 10 in the morning, the Malfoy family retainer will be here to help me sort the estate, finances, inheritances, etc. Then at 11, Dr. Shmeiss is bringing Teddy to spend the full moon here with me.”

“Are you crazy?”

“No… maybe… He listens to me. He listens to you too. It’ll be fine. And well, if he bites me, he’s not contagious.” He was trying to be convincing but wished he sounded more so. “He needs more regular human contact than a few days a month. I am arranging that he gets a family environment every weekend. I know what it is like to be scared, alone, and not able to tell anyone. He shouldn’t have to face it all alone, not at four years old.”

Hermione gaped and then squeaked as the tub overflowed a little. She drained it some. “I’d do the same for him, but… I…”

“You don’t have a home, or income to rely upon. You don’t have anything to offer him… yet. I don’t have much, but I do have money. And money can accomplish some things. Also, I have some sway due to the name of Malfoy, but I need to be very careful since…”

“Since in some cases, your name is quite mud. I know.”

“At noon, Mr. Prescott from Child Social Services will be coming over to help me find or make some arrangement for Teddy, something legal so no one can turn him into their next knew study project. He isn’t an animal.” With Hermione just standing there listening to his plans, the bath water would be cold by the time he got into it. So he finished off, “And apparently someone tipped off the Daily Prophet about all that I have planned.” He tried not to smirk, but failed.

“You… you didn’t! Draco Malfoy! You will be all over the bloody papers! And so will Teddy!”

Draco nodded. She was ready to explode just as he suspected. Better now than tomorrow. “Exactly. Let the world know I am going back to Hogwarts. Let them rise to the challenge to also go back or send their kids back. Let the pure bloods see what I am doing for reparations to help rebuild things. A dare them to match me. Let them see that Teddy is just a scared child, an animagus too young to understand what he is. Let them see that he is like many others in need of care. I dare them all to save one child. If I can try to help one… they can too. If everyone helped just one, then there would be fewer in need. I can’t change the world, but I can change what I do in it and how I am and maybe… maybe…”

“Maybe change others by leading by example. Oh Draco! I am so proud of you!” She hugged him.

“OWE!” he cried out. She swiftly apologized and left him to bathe while she prepared the potion for him.


	15. Veritably Confused

CHAPTER 15 – VERITABLY CONFUSED

Draco eased himself into the cooling bath. He almost called to her for his wand to discover she brilliantly left it by the bath for him. It was like she thought of everything. A little awkward left-handed flick and he charmed the water hot again. AAhhhhh…. He sunk to his chin in it. Dunking his head briefly, he commenced washing. This would completely be more enjoyable if he did not hurt so much. He really hoped that potion helped.

The heat seeped into the most aching muscles and joints and eased some of Draco’s discomfort. His determination to enjoy the bath was valiant. He forcibly ignored his knee and hip and rib and shoulder… Ok, it was hard to ignore, but he tried real hard.

Hermione followed the potion recipe carefully and prepared a small breakfast for them both. She nibbled her breakfast while the potion simmered. Now and then she glanced to the bathroom. It was quiet. She had really expected him to be moaning and groaning. Malfoy usually was dramatic. Although lately, he had been more stoic about everything. She hoped he was not drowning. Finished her breakfast and finished simmering the potion, she divided the brew into two small cups the size of shot glasses. One would sit till lunch to be taken cold. The other, she carried on a small tray with a little omelette and toast.

Draco semi-dozed, enough to be relaxed, but was aware enough not to drown, just barely. The door opened and Hermione entered. “Granger!”

“EEP! Malfoy!”

He covered his privates with his hands under the water, blushing and shocked that she barged in while he was naked in the bath. “What the hell! Don’t you knock?”

Hermione averted her eyes, “Yes. And I did, twice! Then I warned you and counted to ten! You didn’t answer. I thought you drowned!” The tray clattered loudly as she placed on the sink side. “Oh please, Draco. After living here for even a few days, I think I have seen more boys than you do in the boys locker during quiddich. Geez! You don’t have anything I haven’t seen.” She was still very flushed with embarrassment despite her brash words. She kept turned away from him, but occasional slid just her eyes to him to peak.

Draco squirmed in her presence. His pains jumping to his awareness and making him grunt.

“Here is some food and the potion.” She handed him the little hot cup without looking. “You should si--”

Draco snatched the cup and gulped it down in one swallow.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “…sip it slow and eat between sips.” She hoped what he did was ok and understood that he must be in a great deal of pain.

“Granger… get out… please.”

She stepped out after making sure his cane was in the bathroom, leaning beside his clothing. She waited outside the door in case he needed help. Inside, she could hear him struggle to stand and move with muffled attempts to smother his own noises that gave away how much every movement hurt. She peaked through the crack she left in the door. He balanced awkwardly on his good leg to dry, a towel around his waist.

He fumbled with a t-shirt, sat on the toilet to fight his boxers then his pants on. He had to stop often and pant through the pain. He knew she was just outside the door, but he had had a taste of independence and loathed having to have lost it so soon. He nibbled some of the omelette on a piece of toast. The pain was already starting to subside. He sighed with great relief as a grin eased into his features and he smothered a giggle for no reason. He stood and the world tiled a little. He stumbled to the door forgetting to bring the cane at all.

The door to the bathing room opened and Draco leaned too far out. Hermione yelped in surprise as she caught him from falling. She struggled under his weight, “Draco… your cane.”

“I feel great. I don’t need it today.”

She tried to chastise him, but he was clearly too drugged to care. They staggered together to the main room and the sofa where they fell together onto the sofa. He still held her while tangled there. “Draco, I need to get up.”

“No, you don’t. I like when you are here. You are so smart and safe. I know you can be trusted.” He almost slurred.

Hermione managed to at least wriggle into a more comfortable position where he was less likely to regret his actions morally or physically. Finally, she managed to be sitting on the side of the sofa beside him as he lay stretched out. His arms held her around the waist.

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are? I noticed at the dance.”

She wondered to what dance he referred and concluded he was delirious.

“You were the smartest girl, but I wasn’t allowed to like you. Father… I… he made sure I was not allowed and that I would not forget. But, I could like you in my head. He was not good at taking thoughts from me with dark magic, like the Dark Lord. And then at the dance… I am glad you went with Krum. He treated you good. You were so pretty, I couldn’t stop looking. Pansy almost noticed and left me for some other guy for the night.”

She swallowed at the words just spilling unrestrained from him.

“You didn’t really know how to dance. I want to teach you one day. Then you left. Weasley was such an ass; I wanted to punch him. You cried on the steps, and I made sure no one disturbed you. That was as close as I was allowed to get. No gentleman should make a girl cry. I’m so sorry I made you cry, too.”

Hermione vowed to look up the ingredients to this potion, because this much confession out of a stoic man like Draco was somewhat disturbing.

He reached up and brushed her hair from her face. “I don’t think you are a mudblood. You are too amazing a witch to be that, but I still have to prove it to the world. I will… one day… I will prove how to tell in the blood. Maybe those muggle blood doctors can help…”

“Draco, I think you should…” He pulled her closer to him and her breath caught.

“Don’t worry. I like you, but I won’t kiss you. I’d ask permission first. Maybe… later… when you don’t hate me so much…” He closed his eyes and took some slower deeper breaths, almost inhaling the scent of her.

Moments later Hermione realized he was out cold, asleep from the potion. She carefully extricated herself. "Wow… Draco.” She didn’t know what to say or think. There is no way he could have meant anything. He was drugged. She pulled a blanket over him and adjusted the easy brace for his knee onto him to sleep without doing himself further harm. She’d do the other bandaging, but that would mean waking him and getting him sitting up.

She pulled out the potion ingredient list and started digging through books. She even used the floo and called up Harry to look through his books for her. She was right. More than half the ingredients were the same! The pain potion could be used as a veritaserum, especially if swallowed too swiftly on an empty stomach. She groaned and smacked her hand into her face. Lesson learned. Give him food first, then the potion.

She vowed never to tell Draco what just transpired. He’d just deny it, or say it was the drugs and then never take it again. While he slept the morning, she cleaned up a room for Teddy, who would be arriving tomorrow apparently. Then she cleaned up the kitchen. And sat with a bunch of books she asked Harry to send by floo for her. She needed to do something normal to work past the weird thoughts and feelings, the confusion instilled in her by Draco’s confusedly confessed truths.

By lunch Draco moaned in his sleep and stirred awake. “Hermione…” She looked up from her book. Draco swore she lived in books and would die without one in her presence. She helped him to sit up and fetched the salve. “Why did I bother getting dressed if I have to expose myself to be treated?” It was a rhetorical complaint. He didn’t seem to recall anything he had said earlier. Hermione intended to leave him ignorant.

They ate lunch together before she offered Draco the cold potion. He sipped it as directed after his lunch. He worried over being out of sorts for tomorrow. He knew things were confused even as the potion in its round two took effect and left him too unsteady to be on his feet, not that he should be on his feet. “Tomorrow, we wait till after everyone is gone before I take that potion.” He sat for a long while trying to focus and keep himself from saying things he wasn’t sure made sense.

Hermione watched him with mild amusement and helped herself to his letters, reading through them till he either resigned himself to sleep or succeeded in saying something coherent.

After he finally napped a little, he gestured and forced his tongue to work, “Mione… read… out loud.” So she read them carefully out loud while he lounged and thought. They discussed about how to handle the day. It would be rough without the pain killing potion, but Draco preferred his wits about him. He insisted over and over that she MUST pretend to not know the Daily Prophet would show up.

She looked over his letter from Hogwarts again, “You need to reply to this, Draco.” She wondered when they stopped calling each other Granger and Malfoy and moved to first name bases, he even started the short version of her name as Harry and Ron called her. She accepted that he mostly only did that when he was too unfocused or hurting too much to say her whole name. Hermione supposed that it was the grudging respect they now seemed to have for each other. Her respect for him having been first instilled once she understood his motives over the years and his last acts in the war, then these letters and his plans. He was taking risks indeed, and they could go well or poorly for him.

He held the letter in his left hand reading it through again. She asked him what he had written to her in the first place. He shrugged nonchalantly. Then she asked what his plans were. He shrugged again. “You?” he asked in turn.

“I was thinking of studying history and law, maybe even muggle history and law too and then joining the Ministry as a liaison.” It had been on her mind on and off.

“That sounds like a lot.”

“Or,” she reconsidered, “Specializing in charms and transfiguration and breaking new ground in these areas.” She grinned with a little excitement. “Maybe both.”

“Now THAT is a lot.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “So? I think I can do it if I want to. You haven’t answered me though.”

He sighed, she was like one of his hounds with a bone. “I need to look into accounting, business, investments…”

“But what do you WANT to do?”

He had never really considered what he wanted. Growing up he always got what he wanted, though it always had to be within the expectations of what he thought his father wanted him to want. What he personally wanted was a bit of a mystery, even to him. The silence stretched while he thought. “Maybe specialize in charms and potions. There are some things I would like to see that no one seems to be doing research in, but I don’t think I even know where to start to take on that field. Also, I think I would be better off supporting or funding research by people who are willing to do as I tell them. Like research such curses that cannot be broken so far. Maybe put more effort into healing people like Neville’s parents or finding a way to rid myself of the dark magic in my body so I can heal. Or understand why and how werewolves are created and how to better control them. Snape mastered a potion for Lupin, maybe I can use that to help Teddy, or learn to modify it to help other werewolves, or even cure them. Or…” Now that she got him going, there was so much he really wanted to do. He noticed he had been rambling and shut his mouth.

“No, go on. I want to hear this. It is amazing to hear you have dreams of the future that do not involve …” she didn’t finish that sentence, because really, Draco wasn’t the same person she had grown up thinking he was. “Your ideas of the future are bright and not dark. I want to hear more.”

Color rose in his cheeks. “I… I want to understand why muggles are muggles and why wizards are wizards and how one can emerge from the other. Sometimes muggles birth a witch like you. Sometimes squibs are born out of pure blood families. Sometimes I think that the fight to keep pure blood families pure is like the breeding of fine hounds and sometimes I think it is nothing more than just social … social…”

“Discrimination? Bigotry? Narrow-minded high-handed inbreeding?” she offered.

Draco nodded with a little frown. He supposed he deserved to hear that point of view since he had called her a mudblood all those years ago.

“For the record, Draco, I don’t hate you. Hating takes up too much energy. I like to save that for the people who really really deserve it, like your father.” She stood and piled her books neatly by the chair. “Will you be alright for a little while? I want to have a shower, change into clean clothes and check on Harry. He hates being alone in Grimauld Place. Creacher is such a vile elf that does his best to make life there miserable.” He nodded and she took the floo to visit Harry for a while.

Draco spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to compose his reply to the headmistress of Hogwarts. He wondered how much he could accomplish and maybe he could do as Hermione planned and take his N.E.W.T. exams early and use the free times to fill in studies towards his goals. He had not mentioned to Hermione his interest in the dark arts, but he did have an interest there. If he could understand the dark arts well enough, maybe he could discover how to better counter it or protect from it. But wasn’t that auror training? His forefathers would all roll in their graves if he became an auror. What Slytherin ever became an auror? What Malfoy ever did for that matter? He didn’t want to be a ministry controlled auror on their prescribed leash. However, he thought that maybe he wouldn’t mind being a private researcher and someone they could call upon for backup.

He made a list. The N.E.W.T.s he thought he could pass now included: History of Magic, Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration (maybe). He needed to brush up on Herbology if he hoped to pass the NEWT for that. Those were the core classes. He never took Runes or Divination, so he needn’t worry about those. Arithmancy needed as much help as Herbology. Care of Magical Creatures needed even more help than Herbology. He groaned. He didn’t like big animals. They scared the crap out of him. He wanted to add Muggle Studies on principle, also because considering everything, he was sure that the world would have increased relations with the muggle world and he had better be ready for that.

_Dear Headmistress Minerva MacGonegall,_

_I have thought about some of the things I hope for my future studies and find myself pulled in many directions. I think with some refreshing that I could pass my NEWTS for most of my core courses, though not herbology. I have not paid enough attention in that class to feel confident about taking a NEWT exam in it. If I pass them all, then I wish to take no more astronomy, history or transfiguration courses. I would like to take anything advanced in the other core courses of potion, charms, and defence against the dark arts._

_As for my additional studies started in second and third year, I wish to be able to pass the NEWTS in Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy. Although, if I can drop Care of Magical creatures, I would prefer that in favour of Muggle Studies. Is it possible to take pre-university courses? I am interested in some of the auror training as well as medicine. I also need some courses in magical law, business management, finance management, and estate management. I am not sure where to find these without making public request for private tutors. I am not sure who I can trust._

_I also have some requests that might be better off as extra-curricular studies or clubs, like flying and quiddich. I was thinking of maybe classes in social etiquette (especially when we have other schools and cultures in attendance), dance (because it is horrifying trying to endure the poor skills and lack of confidence of other students), and lineage studies (to help everyone better understand their own family histories or the histories of others, especially the challenges between pure bloods and non- pure bloods). Maybe I am being too bold to ask. Sorry._

_I am looking forward to returning to Hogwarts._

_Draco Malfoy  
Heir and Master of House Malfoy and Family_

He was so focused that he never heard the floo noises of people arriving. Hermione and Harry greeted him and he nearly spilled the ink bottle in surprise. The three had supper together and helped be a good distraction for each other’s distresses. This included Hermione also writing her own letter to Hogwarts and convincing Harry to do the same. He really wanted to be an auror after all, but would have to return to school and pass his NEWTS in order to be accepted into the Auror Academy.


	16. Rough Encounters

CHAPTER 16 – ROUGH ENCOUNTERS

The night was rougher than Draco anticipated. He had been healing somewhat well over the last month. He felt like he was back in May when he lay in a world of hurt. He never bothered to leave the sofa. The stairs were just too daunting. The morning dawned bright and clear despite the rain the days before. That didn’t mean he hurt any less when he woke, though.

Harry was just trudging down the stairs from his borrowed room. He scrubbed his messy dark hair as Draco watched from the sofa. Adjusting his glasses, he addressed Draco, “Morning Malfoy. Hermione said she would stay today, but then she needs to get a few things done. I’ll be around Grimauld if you need me over the week.” He took a floo and Draco had to wonder if Harry made it to Grimauld or somewhere else by accident. Harry was not very good with the floo network. Draco always wondered how someone with just barely average magical skill and focus could have been such a hero and defeated the Dark Lord. He guessed that Harry’s unshakable courage had something to do with it. He wondered where Harry found that kind of courage, why he fought at all, and wished he had some of it himself.

Draco struggled to get cleaned up and dressed as sharply as possible. He nearly passed out with the pain and had to call Hermione in to help him. He could see she disagreed with what he was doing. She had suggested he cancel today and reschedule, but he refused. He wanted it over with while he had the courage to do it. Her other concerns were Teddy. How was he going to take care of a four year old while so injured. “I’ll have you here to help?” She rolled her eyes, but agreed.

His hair remained damp from the quick sponge bathing, but she advised him to just shake it out. “It will look like a mess.”

“No it won’t. It will look natural and not like you soaked it in goo. It will look sexy and casual and like you just got out of the shower, which, you kinda did.”

He raised a brow, “I look sexy?”

She colored and abandoned the main room, leaving him on the sofa while she prepared some tea and muffins for when his guests started to arrive.

Draco strove to not move too much, the brace over his pants secured his knee. He just breathed through the pain and prayed this day went smoothly.

Mr. Darius Ashgrove arrived on time. He knocked briskly on the door and Hermione greeted him. Seeing her made his bushy eyebrows fly up. It was already shocking that a Malfoy was staying with the Weasleys, but here was the mudblood. He immediately assumed she was acting servant and disregarded her as he would a house elf. Draco caught her bristled expression and gave her a warning look.

“Mr. Ashgrove. Sit. I will not be standing to greet you, as you can see I am still recovering.” Draco spoke evenly and coldly. His eyes sizing up this agent of his father’s. It made Ashgrove nervous, to be stared at so intently by those silvery blue eyes. Like father like son in many ways.

Ashgrove cleared his throat and sat in the chair that had been arranged opposite the coffee table from Draco. He opened his slim briefcase. Draco instantly drew his wand and the tension froze everyone in the house. Sweat beaded over the older man’s face as he carefully set out three piles of papers and closed his briefcase. He swallowed very nervously.

“I apologize for my caution. You must understand, my father cursed me in his insanity for power. I have to be wary of all those who were in his employ.” Draco watched the nervous man nod understanding.

“Th-these are the deeds to all the Malfoy properties, those in your name, your mother’s, and your family’s.” He indicated one pile. “I have kept the rent checking with all property with tenants and provided a full accounting for the year.”

He drew from his suit jacket pocket a few papers. “These are the wills of your mother and your father, though your father’s cannot be opened till he is actually deceased.”

“I expect to have that arranged by the end of the year. A Malfoy does not commit such crimes against the family as he has without consequence.” Draco’s harsh cold tone made Hermione shiver. This was the Malfoy she remembered from the last seven years. He so easily slid into the role. “Now, explain to me the state of these properties and briefly who is upon them. Then we will go over my mother’s will.”

Ashgrove was very business in his curt explanations, used to not embellishing.

“Your family is upon these? How long has your family served mine?”

Ashgrove thought a moment, “My… my family… My daughter is with a tutor. I stay in this flat. My wife… she’s in hospital. My family has served yours for four generations and will serve it for another six.”

Draco nodded and looked over the general finances and the properties. “I intend for you to move.” Ashgrove was about to protest. “This is your property now. It is between the hospital and London. You will drop these other clients, find them retainers that are competent. I will pay you the same wages as if you had them and include the house free of rent. I need your full attention. How old is your daughter?”

“I… ah… yes… um... yes... Master Malfoy. She’s… she’s eleven. I hope she will get a letter from Hogwarts, if the school is…”

“The school will be running as scheduled. Expect that letter over August, Mr. Ashgrove.” Draco was enjoying having pulled the rug out from under this man. It felt truly good to do something good, even if it benefited him in the end. Win win situations were always better. “Now that I will have your full attention, I need you to arrange for me to meet with you on a regular basis so we can go over these estates and properties and tenants. Also, I need you to walk me through the finances and the investments currently active.”

Hermione brought them both tea as the two men discussed the will of Draco’s mother and then the old family laws. This part was especially interesting and she lingered close to overhear.

Draco was in the right to declare his father no longer in rule over the family for his actions against the family and only heir. But because much of the household securities were based from blood magic, Lucius would still have access since he was of the blood. It only meant that Lucius needed to die and very soon. There were laws, older than the ones presented here, but Ashgrove could not access them. They are only locatable and openable by the true Master of the family. All Ashgrove could provide Draco with was a couple names: First French King Hugh Capet and Le Conte de Mal Foi. Although he was uncertain about the names exactly, just that these were clues for Draco from his mother’s will. Draco asked who these people were, but Ashgrove didn’t know, other than they wrote the first laws of the house of Malfoy that only the Master of the house may access.

Draco wanted to know more, but their time was running out, as well as his endurance. “I will look all these over and correspond with you soon, Mr. Ashgrove. And Mr. Ashgrove?” Draco tried to smile a little, “I am not my father. Please work with me, not under me. If I ask something that you think is ill advised, let me know frankly. I know I can trust you because of the retainership. I would like to be able to trust you as a man of respect. If we can agree upon this, I will do what I can to help you as much as you help me.” He shook the man’s hand and apologised for not getting up.

The pain was becoming more and more clear in Draco’s features. Hermione walked Mr. Ashgrove out. “Miss Granger? How bad is he?”

Hermione raised a brow not sure she understood the question and chose to answer all sides of it, “He’s not as bad as we might have been lead to believe. Lucius set the rules, even for his children and breaking them has ended Draco in this state, which is quite bad. He chose not to take the prescribed pain relief potions so he could stay well focused while he spoke with you. I suspect he will suffer for it for days. You are also not the only person he is meeting today.”

“He should have rescheduled. Or at least planned to see only one person at a time.” He flicked his eyes back in Draco’s direction with a mix of sympathy and new respect. “My wife is very ill and may not recover. I understand how someone pushes to do so much when they think they will not live long. I can see him doing this, trying to get things in order in case he does not survive. They fight hard to get their house in order before they are gone. Try to get him to pace himself or he’ll drive himself into an earlier grave before he manages to have an heir of his own.” Ashgrove apparated away before Hermione could respond.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the reporter, a young man with a small camera. She entered the house and opened the living room window a little more to “let more of the fresh morning air in” with a small gesture that the reporter was here. Draco groaned. He didn’t want the reporter to show up yet. Hermione had to wait out a small explosion of frustration from Draco that she knew was mostly due to the pain he was in. When he calmed, she adjusted the knee brace and offered to rub some of the salve into him. Shaking a little, he declined. The doctor would be here in moments with Teddy.

Draco wasn’t sure if he would manage this day after all and had begun to regret his decisions. Everything hurt, hurt so bad he wanted to be oblivious. But he had two more meetings to get through and then a child to reign in. _What the hell was I thinking? I should have listened to her and cancelled some of this._

“Granger,” he only used her last name now when he was upset, “Stop staring at me with pity! I’ll manage. I have for seven years. No one has ever noticed before how much I hurt after my father had a go at me!” He gasped at the confession he had blurted out subconsciously.

Hermione dropped her concerned eyes with an apology. This little bit of insight to Draco’s past explained more about his behaviour over the years. She wished she had been more observant then, or more sympathetic. Gits were usually gits for a reason. She had just not thought it was because if he wasn’t he would get beaten, tortured or worse from his own father.

The doctor stood in the door, having witnessed that outburst and mentally catalogued the observation for later. The shrill cheer from Teddy rushing at Hermione’s legs broke the still tension. “Mr. Malfoy. Please, sir, do not rise for me. I apologize for barging, but the child was eager and helped himself to the door. May I sit?”

Hermione scooped Teddy into her arms and carried him off to the kitchen to help her make cookies. He HOWLED with excitement. She concluded that he was going to be endless energy through the full moon. She wondered if sedating him was acceptable guardian conduct, but doubted it.

Draco gestured to the chair and winced as he automatically used his right to gesture. The shoulder flashed a burning sensation to remind him it was a bad idea. He gritted his teeth and recomposed himself.

Watching the ready comfort Teddy had with Hermione and Draco told Dr. Schmeiss much about the trust the child already had and the familiarity with these people. Watching Draco’s sharp self-control told him more about what he could expect from the wealthy benefactor and the kind of influence the young man might have on the child. The doctor sat with careful precision for is age that showed in his greying hair and beard. Once more, he adjusted his small round glasses.

“I can see, Mr. Malfoy, that you are in a fair deal of pain. I am glad you have an assistant with you since you wish the challenge of caring for the child over the full moon. I am easy to reach if things get too difficult,” proffered Dr. Shmeiss.

“We’ll manage. I have no intention of failing Teddy. And Hermione… Ms. Granger and I seem to be able to discipline him into a state of calm and focus on occasion when no one else seems to.” It was a small slip. Draco had not intended to use a familiar name for her, and the doctor noticed silently and discreetly. So did the reporter outside. “I know you have not had time with him, but I want him to know the boundaries with me or within a home over the full moon to help make the future encounters hopefully smoother. I am looking into being a legal guardian of some sort for him, if I can… since no one else wishes to be one and I refuse to let him be a lab study object when he is a thinking and feeling child.”

The doctor nodded understanding. “Well then, here is my file or credentials. His case is one of personal interest.” He let Draco flip through the file a few moments. “I have mastered medicine and mind healing, behaviour of magical creatures and muggle creatures. I have mastered muggle psychology as well and find it an excellent supplement to understanding emotional and psychological states and how to treat them.” He watched Draco nod as his eyes caught the words in the papers to corroborate the doctor’s claims.

“Did you bring a proposal of needed funds and supplies? You will have to continue your studies in the Elizabeth Institute as my estate is unsuitable and my other properties are under review.” Draco thought about that a moment and changed his mind. “The Elizabeth Institute is close to Hogsmead Village. If you need room and board and a different environment, I believe I have a small house there you can use. That would also put you…”He rethought his idea. With Lucius still at large, this idea would put both himself and Teddy in harm’s way. “No, nevermind my suggestion. That would not be safe should Lucius, my… ex-father… should come seeking to cause further devastation.”

Dr. Shmeiss watched Draco struggle internally with memories and decisions. The youth was a complex and fascinating study. He had to remind himself again that this young man was not his patient, and clearly not ready to become one as he had expected. “I understand. Here are my financial proposal and list of supplies for a year. My grant will run out on Halloween. If this meets your approval, or if you wish to make any changes, please let me know and the next time we meet, we can conclude with a signed contractual agreement.”

Draco was impressed. This man’s sureness spoke of his own confidence and nobility. The fluency he had with the English language told Draco this man was well educated and likely knew more than these two languages. It also told Draco that this man was probably of pure blood and used to professional conduct, getting his way and living by a high standard. “Agreed. I will look it over while I have Teddy here this week. Then we will begin a routine where you will have him from Monday morning to Friday night and I will have him over the weekends. Did you bring the study findings from the other researchers as well as your own thus far?”

“I have. The previous studies are practically barbaric. I am shocked at what England offers in this specialized field. And the evidence is in the child’s unstable behaviour. I have provided you with the previous research, including my commentary. But understand, until we have a signed contract, my own findings will remain so, my own.” It was like a battle of wills. As a scientist in both the muggle and wizarding societies, the doctor had no intension of having his research stolen and published before he did so himself.

“I understand,” replied Draco knowing he was out of his league at the moment with this doctor.

The doctor offered a small gentle smile, “Good. I will not take up any more of your time. I leave you to the child and the files and proposal to study. I hope you find some time for rest. As I have said, I am not far. My personal fields focus on dealing with behaviour and trauma. So if the child needs some help you find yourself unable to give, I am not hard to reach.” He stood having subtly offered his services to the wealthy heir directly without stating it openly. If the blond man was very smart, he would infer the offer.

Draco regarded the doctor for many long seconds before finally nodding. The doctor saw himself out with a short goodbye to both Ms. Granger and Teddy.

Teddy had overturned half the kitchen thinking he was going to be taken away. It took Hermione almost fifteen minutes to coax a mostly wolf-formed child out of a lower cupboard. The process had to be repeated when Mr. Donald Prescott arrived. Being only maybe five or seven years Hermione’s senior, he felt bad for her predicament with the child. He stood a moment in the doorway to the main room noting the younger man before him. The bandaging, brace and bruises presented a shocking picture of what should be a perfect and pristine Malfoy. Draco buried his face in his hand trying to recompose from his pain before being noticed by the agent from Child Social Services. The result of what a secretly cruel father does to a son and the result of a son trying to re-establish who he is after such trauma as an attempt on his life. Mr. Prescott felt suddenly humbled before this image of pure courage. He could not believe this blond man had been sorted into Slytherin in the same school he himself had attended.

Donald walked in, clearing his throat and sitting in the chair. He noted the piles of legal documents and medical case files and quickly put the puzzle pieces together that Draco had been at this all morning, meeting after meeting trying to get his life re-organized. “Mr. Malfoy?” he felt so odd calling this young man who hadn’t even passed his NEWTS yet the heir and master of the Malfoy family. All indications of pain swept from the youth’s face and were replaced with trained stoicism. Donald hated how many pure blood families locked away their children unless they could be miniature adults. They learned to be like this and hide anything of who they really were. They were hidden from any meetings and family gatherings till they were presented to society at the age of fifteen. This blond must have been forced to be part of the Death Eaters at that time and likely received his mark the following year. Ice blue eyes met Donald’s. “I wish to thank you for the generous donation to our agency. It has helped a great deal. I thought you might like to know that I applied it to the emergency funding and to the new orphanage.”

At the howl in the kitchen, both men looked over. “Are you sure you want to go through with this, Mr. Malfoy? No one would fault you for not and you currently do not have any obligations.”

Those ice blue eyes snapped back as sharply as his tone, “My father’s wand ended that boy’s parents’ lives. Also, his grandmother was my mother’s sister. I have every obligation. No one wants to see his predicament. No one wants to believe there is a small scared boy there. I will not allow him to be hidden away in some lab or institution, especially when he can live a normal life if only someone let him and helps him to.”

Donald could not help but feel impressed. As much as he was all for children’s rights, he had his doubts about a child of a werewolf, over the full moon, and who was clearly and currently out of control. However, if Draco could not prove that he could handle this situation, then the point was entirely moot. A screaming howling child burst from the kitchen. “I’m sorry!” called Hermione.

Draco’s reflexes were still Seeker Swift. His left hand shot out as the wolf child flew by. Teddy was halted as fast as a well caught snitch. Draco held him by a fist full of fur/hair and a gripped ear. “NO! Teddy, sit! You will NOT continue this now.” There was a startled look at the stranger in the room and sudden snarling and growling and struggling and biting. Draco endured it all. “I am not letting you go till you calm down.”

Donald did not interfere. Hermione cringed and wanted to interfere, but a sharp look from Draco kept her where she stood in the doorway. This was a tell-tale moment. Draco could prove control or abuse. Was Draco like his mother or his father? The thought and worry ran through Draco’s mind as well. Many minutes of howling and crying and screaming passed. Teddy grappled with little hands on Draco’s trying to free himself from the painfully firm grip with no success no matter what shape he took.

Moment by agonizing moment the child calmed with the futility of his struggling till he sat on the floor sniffling and crying like the scared small child he was. Draco felt a small arm hug his left leg and wondered if Teddy was going to bite his good leg. A few more quiet moments and Teddy hugged that leg with both arms and cried into Draco’s knee.

“He is just a scared boy,” stated Draco, “He can and will learn self-control.” He slowly released his grip and stroked Teddy’s head and back. “There you go, Teddy, much better. Do you want to sit on the sofa with me?” Stormy grey tear filled eyes looked up and then Teddy nodded. Draco nodded back and Teddy climbed onto the sofa, stuffed his little fingers into his mouth, which Draco removed. Teddy them climbed into Draco’s lap and clung hard to him. Draco winced and grunted with the terrible pain as the child found every bruise and wound. He managed to get Teddy settled on his left and hugged the boy with his left arm.

“You have right of kinship to him, Mr. Malfoy. Much of what I brought about fostering and adoption are not necessary, although Mr. Potter has right as god-father, though he is not in a position to be helpful. I understand the new doctor, Dr. Shmeiss is very good. Mr. Potter had made a similar offer as you had, though only after he was in a more stable position. He was considering taking the child in once Teddy was about six or seven, if Dr. Shmeiss had success with him.” He wanted to reach over and reassure the boy himself, but dared not disrupt the extremely fragile control now being exhibited. For a full moon when the child was supposed to be “insane,” Teddy appeared very sane indeed. He was just as Draco said, a scared four year old.

Trying to stay focused despite how much he hurt, Draco licked his lips before speaking. “Please let me know the options anyways. I am… new to this after all. How can I give him more security, legally? I do not want anyone making him their newest pet or project. And Potter, should remain with his claim. It will in the end allow Teddy to one day inherit what is his by blood right, the Black estates and finances.”

“Very well. Your options are thus: fostering, adopting, or sponsoring. In the suggestions I have noted from you, that you want to take Teddy on weekends, that mostly falls under part-time fostering at this time. I can leave you with the legal manuals for that along with the forms. Adoption is not what you want since you wish him to remain an heir of the Blacks. In a year, we can reconsider the situation and you can change how you wish to handle this. I commend you for all this. I really do.” Donald spoke softly and carefully so as not to startle the small child.

His efforts were completely wasted as a camera flashed to get a better picture in the now shading main room. The reporter at the window had timed his shot perfectly for the most tender and sad of moments. Injured Draco cuddling terrified Teddy while discussing the child’s fate and future with an agent of the Social Services.

The shock of a stranger and the flash destroyed Draco’s efforts with Teddy, who shrieked, then growled, then leapt off Draco screaming and howling. He turned over small furniture in his path to find a hiding place, not wanting to be taken away again. Draco clutched his own side, face contorting in agony as he crumpled sideways on the sofa. Hermione bolted over to Teddy. Donald threw a freezing hex at the reported through the window then rushed out to retrieve the man and drag him into the kitchen where he unhexed him and tore into him for what he had just done and the illegality of his actions, not to mention the terror he caused a small child and the potential added injury that might be resulting to Draco.

The reporter, young Stephen Cornfoot, stood shaking. He had not intended harm, just wanted to capture a valuable moment. He didn’t think… “That is right! You didn’t think!” yelled Hermione as she carried the wildly frightened child upstairs to his room, promising that no one was taking him away and that the strangers were going to be leaving very soon. Donald pointed his wand warningly at Stephen and told him to stay where he was if he didn’t want to face any further legal charges.

Draco moaned in pain, thinking how this day really was not going as smoothly as he had wanted it. Once again, he was regretting his decisions, but still would not take them back. _Let that reporter see me. Let him see that Teddy is a normal boy who is just scared. Let him see that I am doing everything I can, even if it kills me, to do something right with the miserable life my father left to me._

A hand gently helped him to sit and supported him. Donald spoke several words to him. He drew a wand over him and a rib snapped back into place. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I will deal with this reporter.”

“No,” Draco managed to grunt out. “Let the world know what we are doing. Let them know Teddy is not someone to be afraid of.”

“Or you. You definitely are not your father, Mr. Draco Malfoy. Can I get you anything?”

“Hermione… please…”

The afternoon was a haze of drugged blurriness for Draco. Hermione managed to settle Teddy in his room where he felt safe. He howled and played in there, but did not leave as she had requested. She tended Draco and got him into an uneasy sleep. Stephan was a shy reporter who apologized profusely over and over for what he had done. He offered any help he could. Hermione remembered him from school, from Hufflepuff. He would get his story, but he must arrive by request and permissions. One more surprise like that, and he would be prosecuted and charged for damages. Hermione told him that Draco would speak with him, but at a later date. Right now was obviously a bad time. Stephen would get an owl about it. And the Daily Prophet had better not consider sending anyone else. Stephen had been so silent and discreet and that was welcomed. Also, Hermione knew him well enough to know that he would write a very humanistic and emotionally moving story.

Stephen had been shocked to realize she had known he had been lurking about the house since early morning. He wondered if maybe she had been the anonymous tipper. It didn’t matter. He would be the only one to ever get to interview a Malfoy up close for something this intimate. It would make his career. And it would rock the world. He swore he would be more careful, more discreet, and more respectful next time. He just had been trying to be like the other reporters.

“Stephen, you will find that people are far more willing to open up to an honest man wanting an honest story than they ever will to a sneaky snake in the grass of a reporter. Don’t make me rank you with Rita Skeeter. You won’t like how that turns out.” Hermione sent him on his way and thanked Donald Prescott for his help, patience and understanding in this day. She apologized if this took time from his other daily obligations.

She checked on Teddy and found he had left his room. A moment of panic and searching the house finally revealed that he had snuck quietly downstairs and curled up with Draco on the sofa. She made sure he was not curled in any position that would cause Draco further pain before draping a thin blanket over them both. She dropped into the chair, drained from the day. And to her glee, there were apparently lots of new things to read. She hoped Draco didn’t mind.


	17. Grimauld Place

CHAPTER 17 – GRIMAULD PLACE

The six days with Teddy were a mix of hellish, exhausting, and adorable. The boy had endless energy. Draco sat on the front porch with him in the evenings gently tossing a charmed ball for Teddy to chase or Hermione would sit and howl on the porch with Teddy. They were constantly seeking new ways to tire the boy out or keep him busy during his most energetic and difficult time of the month. If he was run and played with to exhaustion, then he maintained better self-control when he needed to be controlled, like at dinner. If he didn’t get run time, then he sometimes became wild and rolling snarling kicking and screaming wolf form. That always ended with him crying in a corner scared of himself.

The adorable was in the morning. Hermione would give Draco his medicine which always knocked him out for most of the morning and Teddy would finally be tired out. The two would sleep on the sofa together. Hermione finally found the camera and took a flashless picture, or five. She napped in the morning too since she had also been up with the boy most of the nights.

The week got easier as the full moon passed. Draco also started healing better. He ached less and breathed easier. He moved around more. He watched with Teddy as Hermione cooked meals for them in muggle ways without magic. Draco found it fascinating and asked many questions. “It looks just like when we are in potions class, with the recipes and the… well everything.” he had commented.

Hermione lightly laughed, “Except there is no punishment for doing it wrong except having it taste awful.”

Meals brought their own challenges and discoveries. The challenges were with Teddy of course. Draco was firm with his rules and always followed through with anything he said he would do. Teddy struggled through meals leaning to use utensils or sitting while others ate. He was not permitted to eat his food unless he used the utensils. He went hungry one dinner entirely and ended the meal with a spectacular tantrum. Hermione did not tolerate tantrums. Although, later in the night when teddy cried because he was hungry, she made him a small sandwich he could eat with his fingers and explained the importance of eating properly with everyone at the table.

The discovery for Draco was the similarities he and Hermione shared in neatness and careful polite eating habits. He also found her studiousness refreshing. He enjoyed reading and in the afternoons, they sat reading their respective piles. He had so much to digest. His family documents took up most of his time. When he was sick of that, he and Hermione quizzed each other on various subjects for their upcoming tests. He hoped to get a letter from Hogwarts soon. By the end of the week, he found himself actually excited about the idea of going back. Hermione provided a perfect person to compete with. She was always the top of every class. He had always come in close second. He hated his father when his father told him to start to let school go in favour of other things. A private tutor at home pushed him through the necessary studies. It became ridiculous to be at school. A waste. He had been going to do tasks for the Dark Lord and not to learn. He wanted to be there to learn. Now, he would have that opportunity, to be there because he wanted to be.

Sending Teddy away with the doctor felt like tearing something apart inside him. Teddy screamed and cried and fought. The child escaped and bolted back to the house. A Seeker swift hand shot out and grabbed him. He cried into Draco, who hugged him in turn. “Teddy. Teddy. It is only for the week, five days. You can count to five. I know you can. You count off each day and then you will come back for the weekends with me. Be good for Dr. Shmeiss. I want to hear good things about you when you come back to me. Now go on…” He gave Teddy a small shake. “No crying. This is not a bad thing.” The doctor took him away then. It still ended in screaming and kicking and crying till they disapparated.

Draco’s lips tightened into a straight line. “What did I do wrong?” His mind ran circle around this problem. Teddy should have been compliant. It was supposed to be a better parting of ways. He searched for the mistake sure he had made a critical one.

“You did nothing wrong,” Hermione stated gently. “He is four years old and wants to stay with you. This is what four year olds do. You… you did everything right, Draco. Everything better than anyone could have expected. He has to learn a whole new routine now. It isn’t going to work out in this first week. It will probably be a few weeks before he realizes he always does come back. Right now, he just doesn’t believe he’ll come back. Patience. It will be fine.”

She doubted he had much patience left though. It must be very hard to be injured and incapacitated for so long.

He grumbled up the few stairs back into the house. Hermione rolled her eyes at his unnecessary drama. It was so typical of the old Draco. She supposed old habits die hard. “I have never done anything right before. Not with my parents, not with school, not with friends… Not that I have any. See! I can’t get that right!”

Annoyed by his ranting, her reply left her lips before she could think about it. “Well, looks like you need as much socializing as Teddy! Were you born a prat? Didn’t you learn anything in school as a child?”

His eyes gave her such a cold empty look, she regretted her words. “Granger. I didn’t go to school. But you would not know that, would you. Pure bloods are privately schooled. They don’t abase themselves by going to public schools. They get the best private tutors their parents can afford to prepare them for academies or specialized magic schools. We don’t study with other children. It stunts our ability to study with suchdistractions. When we are older, we use others as the competition, the bar to measure up to and to surpass, or ruin so we pass them anyways.” He stormed into the house as best he could with his injuries. The cane clattered angrily to the floor by the sofa where he threw himself. He curled up trying to shut out the world.

All Hermione could think from that outburst was how lonely and deprived pure bloods were.

The owl the night before stated that if all was fine, the Weasleys would be staying another week away. Hermione thought about this and how Draco would now be alone for a week. It might be good for him to have some independence. He also might be very lonely. “If you want, I am sure Harry won’t mind if you came to stay at Grimauld place with us. If you want. You can teach us, or at least him about this old family law stuff.” She tried to offer, but he didn’t seem to be listening.

She collected all her things and sent them by floo to Harry’s. Then she leaned over the back of the sofa to look down at a brooding Draco. She reached out, hesitated only a moment, and touched his shoulder gently. He winced. She knew it was his sore shoulder, but she was gentle. “Draco, you are not without friends. You only need to let people be friends, open up and let some of us in. I’ll be at Harry’s, come if you want. We are both here for you.” He gave no answer. She sighed and stepped into the fireplace. She threw a handful of floo powder and called out clearly, “Number 12 Grimauld Place.” And she was gone.

Draco turned his face into a sofa cushion.

He managed for three days. There was no more already prepared foods from Molly Weasley, so he slowly figured out how to feed himself, with some success and some failure. He ended up preparing food as Hermione had, the muggle way, in the end. It was like potions class and he was less likely to make mistakes. In magical cooking, mistakes were instant. Minus his aching, he found cooking actually relaxing, grudgingly admitting to himself that it was fun and interesting. He always really liked potions class, even if Snape was a git for a teacher. He had really wanted to be good enough to make the Slug Club when Slughorn took over teaching potions. He wondered if he could manage that in his final year.

Mornings were rough. He hurt the most then. And he could not salve his shoulder to ease its aching. He brewed his pain and healing potion in the evening to force himself back onto a proper sleeping schedule that was not a Teddy Full Moon up all night sleep schedule. He distracted himself with reading and more reading. He devoured all his legal documents, all the financial ones, all the fostering forms, all the confusing medical ones. He drafted contracts and was about to send out meeting times when he decided he wanted to meet them in their places of work. He also needed to go to Gringotts and access his inheritance and his accounts again. He could do it alone. But that would also make him exposed with no back-up should his … should Lucius show up and make another try on his life. He would have paced if he could, but going up and down the stairs at the moment was hard enough.

By day four. The last day of July, he started to miss Hermione. He told himself it was just to rub the healing salve into his injuries. But he knew it was her company, her ability to challenge him in their studies. She had as sharp and bright a mind as he did and he wanted to just… talk to someone, because the sofa was just not a very good conversationalist.

The Weasleys would be back on Monday. Teddy should be with him day after tomorrow. It felt like a painful dour day. It was a painful and slow four days. The house felt so… so… empty. He felt empty. He couldn’t go anywhere and hated having to be dependant. Rather, he could go, but then what if something happened? He owed everyone enough for his life. Finally fed up with the aching shoulder and his own echo in the house, he packed an overnight bag and stood by the fireplace. Would he be interrupting anything? Harry and Hermione were sharing that big old house together. Part of him felt jealous that she was with Harry. Part of him felt like an interloper, even into just their friendship. He stood there a long time debating. She did say he was welcome. But did she speak for Harry? It was Harry’s home now by law, maybe not actual magical blood law, but by law. Harry had been very frank and friendly with him before. Maybe he could try to be friends. Maybe Hermione was right? Maybe he really did suck as this friendly social thing. What was the etiquette?

He sent his eagle owl to Grimauld Place with a proper formal request to visit, probing if Hermione’s invitation still stood. He was shocked at the swift reply. Harry stepped from the fireplace with the eagle owl on his arm.

“For bloody sake. Give me your bag.” Harry picked up the overnight bag. “I’ve known you too long to expect formality. Also, I hate that kind of formality. Everyone treats me like I am some kind of god or something. Just… relax and be casual. Please.” He looked at Draco’s gaping mouth and laughed. “Well, that was fun. Done looking like a fish? I bet your shoulder is killing you. Hermione has some salve and potion made for you.” He stepped into the fireplace and took the floo back to Grimauld Place.

Draco snapped his mouth shut and took the floo to #12 Grimauld Place. He had never been there. It was so rude to just use the floo, so… working class. He stepped out, leaning on his cane wrinkling his nose against the dust and filth the floo network coated him in. He swore he was never using that again and would use apparition from now on. Much cleaner.

Grimauld Place held that old feel. It was an old family, older than Malfoy. The alliance between the two families was awkward. He looked around the darkened room and followed Harry through a sketchy tour. Harry had no idea how to be a proper noble host. He smirked to himself thinking that maybe he would oblige Harry to join the etiquette club. So much of the house had been untouched, still covered in sheets or layers of dust. As Harry walked, he commented that this room or that room can’t be opened. “Why not?” Draco asked, though he suspected he knew why.

Harry shrugged, “I can’t seem to open them and Creacher refuses to open them for me.” Harry whispered then, “And Hermione won’t let me turn the vile elf out.”

Draco burst with a laugh he could not control. It was hilarious to hear Harry speak thus about an elf and funnier to see him at odds with Hermione about elf rights. She still clung to her old school SPEW club. His face and side hurt from the short laugh. Had it been so long since he expressed any mirth? Harry apologized about the stairs as Draco groaned looking up. Bedrooms and all dens and whatnot were up. The main floor hosted the kitchen, dining room and a sitting room for formal guest meetings.

It took Draco the better part of thirty minutes to get to the second floor. Harry offered him the pick of rooms. “This room is mine and down the hall is Hermione’s if you need anything. She usually hang out in that room. It has books, go figure.” Harry’s ease with a grin was contagious. Of course Hermione would hang out in the library room. “Creacher won’t listen to Hermione at all, sometimes listens to me if I am mad enough at him.”

“You aren’t pure blood. The Blacks were staunch pure blood loyalists. He is likely bloodbound to obey only those of pure blood and blood relation to the family.” Draco explained. He figured he’d have to explain more later maybe.

“Oh. Hmmm. That makes sense. Oh hey! Then you can tell him to do the stuff he bloody ought to do. You are pure blood and related! Your name is even on the family tree, but the picture is of a baby. You might want to update that,” suggested Harry. Draco stood in his new bedroom still reeling from Harry’s unflinching acceptance of his presence. The old sour elf lumbered in grumbling irritably about the foul mudblood and half-blood insulting the home. Draco sniffed in annoyance. Even this was not tolerated in his home. House elves were not to be seen and NEVER heard.

Draco decided to give this one a little taste of propriety. “Vile elf! How dare you leave this house in such a state! I come to visit and the rooms are not even ready! What have you been doing under the Master’s nose? Ignoring him? How insulting to not maintain this house at all times!” He had the old house elf practically jumping in panic. He ordered the elf to clean this room and ready it for him to stay overnight and to render the remainder of the house into a fit state for living pure bloods. The mudblood and half-blood master needed to learn what a proper home should be like. He threatened the elf with all kinds of horrible tortures for such humiliation.

Hermione charged in to yell at Draco for how he treated the elf and for his bad language. Draco sat calmly on the now clean (by elf spells) bed unpacking. “He should listen for a few days now.” She gaped at him, clenched her fists. “Don’t yell at me. Don’t you dare. He is bloodbound to obey certain people and to treat all others like filth. Go do research on what bloodbinding is if you don’t quite get it. There should be a book in the library about it. All pure blood children are taught about this.” He watched her storm out to do just that. Not even fifteen minutes later he could hear her shocked commentary and indignation from what she discovered.

She rushed back into his room. “Have you ever done any of this?” she asked accusatorily.

“Don’t you ever knock?” He enjoyed the banter as much as he enjoyed watching her blush. She mumbled an apology. “No, only the Lord of the Family or Mater of the House may bloodbind anyone to the family as a whole, or bloodbind the house in various ways. Bloodbinding can be also done on an individual bases.” He quieted. She waited expecting more. “The Dark Mark is a form of bloodbinding. You suffer when you disobey. You can be found anywhere. You obey as if under the Imperious Curse, for your master can command you to die and you will. It is old magic and yes, it is still used. And no, again no, I have never done so. And no, there is no release from bloodbinding so long as the master is alive. In the case of Creacher, he is bloodbound to the family and will remain so as long as someone with the family blood still lives, even if they are half-blooded. He’ll obey me, since my mother was a Black. He should eventually obey Teddy once Teddy is old enough and IF and only if the disownment on my aunt Andromeda can be lifted.”

Hermione relaxed and Harry sat on the floor joining them. This was fascinating and scary. Draco felt weird being like a teacher in this most basic of pure blood education. “How do we re-instate Andromeda’s family line?” asked Harry.

“I’m not sure yet. It depends on the various founding family laws and if there is something in any of them as a loophole to work with. Also depends on what spells were cast for the disownment. There must be some way to do so, or Sirius Black would never have been able to enter the house or do anything.” He unconsciously rubbed his knee as he spoke.

Hermione immediately slipped out and returned with the healing salve and a small cup of potion. Draco turned down the potion. He hated being out of sorts. It was a frightening experience. There was some awkwardness and stammering about the salve. She shoved it into Harry’s hand. “You’re a boy. You can do this now.” She escaped taking the bloodbinding book with her.

“Oh, now she is going to be a prude?” asked Draco confused by her behaviour.

Harry shrugged. “She’s being… moody. It’s that time of month for her. She’ll likely spend tomorrow really sick and cramped up in bed.” Draco seemed completely confused. “Oh please, don’t tell me you don’t know that girls have a monthly…”

“I know they have that! You don’t shag them when they do.” The uncomfortable silence grew between them. “Have you ever? Shagged her?”

“Hermione?” squeaked Harry. “No.” The uncomfortable silence grew between them again. “I have never shagged anyone. Snogged, yes, shagged no. And well… I suppose things done against your will don’t count.”

"That's buggering and it counts still, but not if it is against your will… I suppose. But… then that makes you a fag." Draco wondered if there was anything actually good about being a fag then banished the thought. Harry nodded thinking of Oliver Wood, who was the first person to talk about such things with him in the locker room. It had helped Harry accept and move past some things that freaked him out. Draco didn't really understand. Harry could see that, but Draco seemed to be trying to find some way to come to terms with what was done to him.

Harry broke the next silence. “I can rub the salve in. Just tell me where and what to do. She is obviously not going to come back and do it.”

Draco resigned to changing into sleep clothing and let Harry rub in the healing salve. The remainder of the evening turned out much more pleasant than Draco expected. The three sat in the library in their pyjamas. Draco felt like a rebel for doing so, felt like he was sneaking around in forbidden places like a delinquent child. He expected his father to step out and punish him. Everyone laughed because of course that would not happen.

They mused together about going back to school. Harry doubted Ron would go back. George and Fred had dropped out of school and had become very wealthy and successful. Ron had been of a similar mind earlier in the summer. Harry shared with them that Ron might sign on with George to help his brother run the business or might try out to be a professional Keeper with one of the British teams. Hermione rolled her eyes and shared her strong opinion that Ron should at least go back and complete his NEWTS. She reminded Harry that Fred and George dropped out after they finished their core NEWTS.

Not hurting as much, due to the salve made socializing more comfortable. Draco was surprised how much he enjoyed their company. He was even more surprised at how readily they accepted him.

Shame his stay had to end in a spat with Hermione over house elves. They started out debating rights and positions and duties. It degenerated into a battle of wills, knowledge, and the ability to prove one’s point. Draco enjoyed the fight. He fought the debate for the enslavement of house elves, not because he actually believed in it. Honestly he could not care less. He fought just to see how she would do in a full intellectual debate and if she would resort to her muggle tactic and punch him again.

Harry eventually broke them up. “Hermione! Stop! Just… stop! Can’t you see? He’s just bating you.”

Draco gave them a slight smirk, flicked his eyebrows and nodded. _Bravo to Harry for realizing._

“YOU PRAT!” Hermione yelled at him and stormed upstairs.

Harry shook his head, “Did you really have to do that at this time of month? Now I have to deal with her while you run off. You know, why don’t you stay?” Harry grinned ever so pleasantly.

“Hell, no. I have Teddy over the weekend anyways,” Draco replied. He stood in the fireplace and paused before using the floo, yes, the floo. Apparating sudden;y made him wary since he would land outside the Weasley’s unprepared for a fight and with no back-up if trouble lurked there. “Potter? We have lots to talk about, about this house, about the Blacks, about Teddy. Can I…?” He fumbled with how to make this request not sound stupid.

“Ya, sure. See you Monday. You can keep the room. Just… make sure to let Molly know and HUG her. Really. And tell Ron to read his bloody mail.” Harry held out his hand to Draco who took it and shook it. “Thanks for subtly siding with me when we were in your house with Bellatrix, for not calling the Dark Lord, and for giving up your wand for me.”

Draco nodded respectfully, “Thanks for saving me from Goyle’s stupidity of Fiendfyre, for saving my life, and for… for giving me a chance I may not have really deserved.”

“See you Monday.”

Draco took the floo back to the refurbished Burrow. Some things started to feel a bit like home, but nothing really matched the comfort of a noble house with the familiar settings, décor, smell, and lingering old magic. Yes, he would come back to Grimauld Place and stay with Harry until they leave for Hogwarts. He just wished he could go home. Home just wasn’t safe, not while his father lived. His birthday on the grounds must have taken a great deal of protective magic to achieve.

Grimauld Place would have to do as a temporary home till September. Besides, it held a great many secrets including insight into his mother’s side of the family.


	18. Saying Goodbye

CHAPTER 18 – SAYING GOODBYE

The weekend with Teddy went far better than the week of the full moon before. Draco had made strides, he thought. It started out warm, not in temperature (though it was summer), but warm because Teddy hugged Draco with as much joy as he had Hermione the last time.

 _At least someone loves me_ , thought Draco.

It wasn’t necessarily easy to handle the boy alone over the weekend, but Draco wanted to do it, needed to do it. He needed to prove to himself that he could. Hermione and Harry were easy to reach if he needed help and that was oddly reassuring. Very odd. He, Draco, trusting to the help of his greatest adversary Harry and the mudblood Hermione. He shook his head of those thoughts. He owed them each a life debt.

Teddy was still endless energy, but at least slept at night. Afternoon was the hardest for them both on Saturday. Sunday, Draco realized that napping together in the afternoon solved the problem. He almost wanted to keep Teddy longer, but needed to establish this routine because of school that would start in September.

When the doctor arrived, Draco voiced his concern of the weekend, “Teddy is four years old. He hasn’t spoken a word, nothing coherent. Does he not talk?”

“Children who experience traumas often go through a phase of silence, like the trauma casts Silencio on them and takes time to wear off,” explained the doctor. “He will speak when he is ready, have you tried other methods of communication? He gestures for me. I was thinking of trying music this week with him.”

Music. Draco missed music. He had been classically trained in piano, not that he ever made that known at Hogwarts. His mother loved his playing. Maybe he could teach Teddy?

Teddy left with the Dr. Schmeiss with another fuss, but it was not nearly as bad as last time. Sunday night felt so very very long without anyone there.

Sleep came slow and filled with nightmares. The good thing about being alone was that no one heard your screams of terror, the moans of fear or the sobs that came with the nightmares and bad memories in the night. The bad thing about being alone was that no one heard your screams of terror, the moans of fear or the sobs that came with the nightmares and bad memories in the night. He sat in bed sucking in great gulps of air as the sweat rolled down his face and back and chest. He scrubbed his tears away with his blanket.

He fumbled for his wand on the bedside. It fell to the floor and he scrambled to lean over the edge and snatch it. “Ll-lumos.” A weak light shone pale blue then faded out. “Lumos,” Draco spoke more clearly and firmly to achieve a proper illumination. The house was quiet and dark. The dark scared him a great deal these days, always had really. The candle he had lit died out in the night. He knew it would but had hoped to sleep through the night so it would not matter.

A bang was heard downstairs. Stomping and shuffling, too. The movement of many people drove Draco to his feet. The Weasleys were due back tomorrow afternoon or evening. Who would break in? Could anyone break in? What if Lucius found a way? It would not be the first time. Would the Weasleys sense it? Draco wouldn’t as it was not his house magic. Would Lucius bring his followers? Did he have followers? Draco limped to the door with his cane in his left and his wand in his right. He let the light dim to the barest fraction. He had to do something. He had to manage to either call for help or escape. He wasn’t really sure about apparating undetected. That would require opening the window first. Also, he had not practiced since he was nearly killed by his father in Hogwarts. Getting splinched was not on the agenda for his life, thanks. He couldn’t let Lucius and his followers leave deadly curses lingering for the Weasleys to accidentally touch, either.

In his mind, Draco ran through many of the offensive spells he knew, a few defensive ones, and a good number of dark magic ones too. He cautiously stepped into the hallway. “Draco?” Molly’s voice sounded almost beside him. He yelped in surprise. “Oh dear boy! I am so sorry. We were trying to be quiet to not wake you.” He grew his lit wand to a brightness to see her more clearly and sighed. They came home early. She pulled his face closer and kissed his cheek in welcome. “My my,” she touched his damp hair. “Another nightmare?” Draco found himself simply nodding to her motherly comfort. “Go back to bed, dear. I’ll bring in some warm milk for you. Nevermind us and our noises, we’ll all be settled in soon.”

He was too tired and out of sorts to argue or even raise his own mantle of stoicism and perfection. So with messy bed-head, sweat-damp face and body, Draco limped back to bed. He wondered who comforted Teddy. He wondered who comforted Hermione and Harry. Maybe they comforted each other. He tried not to worry that he was being an interloper there. The warm milk worked miracles. It was sweetened with a little vanilla and honey. Was it spelled for sleep? He didn’t get to think far on that thought before sleep took him.

The house was once again full of Weasleys and noise in the morning over breakfast. Arthur was strangely quiet around Draco through breakfast but cornered him later. “You did not have to do what you did. We’ve managed just fine financially.”

“It was the only thing I knew I could do,” Draco countered defensively. “I owe you… my life.” Life debt.

Arthur nodded. How else would a Malfoy try to make reparations? “Thank you. But next time, ask. Surprises like that scare me. I don’t like owing anyone anything. And so far, the Weasleys are not bound by any debts or any other magical bindings.”

Draco nodded feeling a little ashamed to have not really thought about that. It made sense. If he were in Arthur’s place and a windfall magically found its way into his bank account, he’d react the same way. Malfoys also have not owed anyone in any way as far as Draco knew, until now. He owed his life to the Weasleys, to Harry Potter and especially to Hermione Granger. He did not dare tell her yet that she essentially owned him through that life-saving spell. His life and spirit were in her very hands for so long. All she had to do was doubt or let go. She had had no reason to hold him to this world, but he was deeply grateful that she had. He now had a second chance at life, because of her. That sort of debt was magical and as old as bloodbinding, maybe older. He recognised the phrase she has whispered occasionally to him to help him when breathing and living felt impossible. He wished she wouldn’t do it. She didn’t know she was reinforcing a bond deeper than the unbreakable vow. It was a problem he would have to deal with at some point, but not today, not yet, hopefully not for several years.

Arthur patted Draco’s cheek, snapping him from his thoughts. Draco’s cheeks burned. “Noticed you packed things. Are you… going somewhere?”

Molly rounding the corner like only a mother could with the incredible bat ears that mothers seemed to have naturally. “Draco’s leaving?” Soon the whole house knew and were gathering.

Draco sighed. He appreciated how these people spoke to him like a peer, like a mature adult, unlike his father who treated him like he was twelve with no real mind of his own. He hoped that continued and that no one would be insulted. “I… ehem… yes. Potter invited me to Grimauld Place. I thought I would go there for a little while. My mother was a Black and I hope to learn a little from that house, and… maybe teach Harry about the house magic. He doesn’t know much of it from what I saw when I visited last week.” He saw Ginny lift a broken object she noticed while standing and listening. “Ah.. oh. That… I missed fixing that. Teddy was here.”

They all just looked at him for a few moments before accepting his decision. Most of the younger Weasleys dispersed. Ron’s sceptical wary look was not missed. Draco murmured, “Harry wants Ron to visit too since Ron neglected writing.”

Ron instantly winced at the scathing look his mother gave him. Oops. He made his escape the second Molly turned back to Draco.

“Arthur, Molly, if I may be so informal.” They both nodded. They never expected him to be formal. “Thank you for all that you have done, for all your care, for…”

Arthur hugged him suddenly cutting off his recitation. “Hush lad. We know.”

Remembering Harry’s advice and feeling weird and awkward, he leaned a little and initiated a hug with Molly who instantly teared up. “Oh Draco, you write to us. If you need anything, we’ll come. And you visit at Christmas with Harry and Hermione. You are family now.”

Draco swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. He had to clear it several times before risking the floo to Grimauld Place. The Weasleys crowded hominess vanished in green flames that flared and vanished again to reveal the cold antique dark fireplace of the sitting room on the main floor of Grimauld Place. Kreacher had done as he was told and the room was clean, dust free, the sheets gone. It looked almost normal. Although, it still felt cold and empty and unused.


	19. Learning to Cope

CHAPTER 19 – LEARNING TO COPE

Draco stepped out of the fireplace. His bags soon followed and he felt silly for having left them behind as opposed to sending them first. Guess Molly was used to her children forgetting things, likely mostly Ron. He brushed the dust off himself and his bags. He made sure he didn’t forget to pack anything before standing and straightening his clothing. He didn’t want to look rumpled, even from hugs. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. As he turned, Harry and Hermione were in the doorway. He almost spat at her about knocking, but he was the intruder this time.

She gave her one-sided smile. “Lunch will be ready soon.” She turned and left the main room.

Harry apparently managed to be more firm with Kreacher who obeyed, somewhat, though with great complaints. Harry ordered the elf to take Draco’s bags to Draco’s room. Draco watched the conduct of the elf and wondered why the elf obeyed Harry at all. Maybe there was Black blood in Harry after all? Maybe from a distant relative? Draco would need to see the Black Family Tree to know for sure.

Draco tried to tell himself that moving in here with Harry was like a stepping stone to moving back to his own proper place as Lord Malfoy. He needed to shake some of the cozy family feel of the Weasleys before facing the dangers of the dungeons of Slytherin House at Hogwarts.

Owls came just after lunch with the paper, mail, and messages. Hermione cheered to have a letter from Ron and followed it immediately with ranting how he could have just taken the floo to visit. Draco concluded that she was always mad at Ron. Harry took the rest of the mail and left the paper for everyone on the dining table. Draco snatched the paper from the table. This was a dining table, not a dumping ground. Honestly, did these people not know how to live in a house? The quiet but firm echoes of instructions on what to do and not do at the dinner table ran through his mind. This soon flashed to darker memories of Voldemort at his dining table. Draco physically shook himself and retreated from the dining room.

Harry paced and read through a letter. A deep frown of frustrated confusion kept causing his glasses to slide a little, forcing him to adjust them repeatedly. “Can’t they just speak English?”

“Who?” asked Draco.

“The damned goblins at Gringots.” Harry thrust the letter at Draco.

Draco read through it carefully. It was not unlike letters he had dealt with over the weeks. “It’s in Black Family code. You would know it if you were raised in the family or if Sirius had had time to teach it to you. It just means you’ll have to go there directly to know what they want.”

Harry threw his arms in the air in defeat.

Draco continued explaining, “It is a security measure. Be grateful. This is probably about your inheritances or sensitive matters with documents or funds or items in the vaults. Sirius’ and Regulus’ names are here, so I’d say it deals with a sensitive inheritance issue. They use the code in case someone steals your mail to blackmail you, or engage in dark arts to acquire whatever is in your vaults.”

Harry’s mouth formed an O and he seemed much less frustrated. “We can go tomorrow. I’m thinking of getting a new owl. I really miss Hedwig, she has no real replacement, but I need another. There is just too much to sort out here.”

Draco sympathized. Harry had two family houses to sort out; the Potter and the Black families that he was now head of. At least the Potter one likely was one house in Godric’s Hollow and a substantial vault of funds. The Black family’s inheritance was complicated. Draco knew. He possessed those documents. It was what he wanted to sit and talk with Harry about after all, among many other things.

Harry and Hermione left Draco to settle himself in while they went about their own routine of things. Draco preferred it that way. His head was too full of questions and worries. He wandered the Black London estate known as #12 Grimauld Place. Well, he explored the first three floors. It was built up and was thus maybe five or six floors like the Weasleys’ Burrow. Draco just could not manage the stairs.

Close to dinner, Draco wondered what Harry and Hermione were laughing about as they prepared to go out. “We’ll be back soon… with dinner,” they informed him. He didn’t see how that was funny, but whatever. He took over a desk in the main sitting room with all his formal paperwork to read through and understand. The duo returned with some large flat boxes. Hermione also pulled some other items from her small extended purse. Draco never understood why women did that. Those extended purses held practically a whole house!

The flat boxes were set on the dining table with plates, napkins, bottles of cream soda and butter beer, and a strange circular knife that Harry called a pizza cutter. The word pizza was printed in large on each box as if people were too stupid to figure out what was inside. The amusement for Harry and Hermione increased when they opened the boxes and helped themselves to their pizzas while watching the various odd expressions of confusion dance on Draco’s normally stoic face. He had never seen pizza before, as they had suspected. He didn’t understand why there was no cutlery. He looked aghast that they ate this food with their fingers. Yet, it smelled so good that his stomach growled loudly for it several times and his mouth watered.

Draco wondered if the pizzas had craving charms cast on them.

He watched the other two eat for many minutes before hunger and curiosity urged him to try what lay before him. It reminded him a little of lasagne with the gooey cheese, but that was the only similarity. He managed despite his shock at the barbaric method of eating with his fingers.

“Congratulations and welcome to the rest of society, Draco Malfoy!” cheered Harry. “You have now eaten the most common of common foods in both the wizarding and muggle worlds.”

“Thursday, you are eating the way I do,” Draco stated in a threatening yet amused tone. Two could play this game. “You better find some proper formal clothing.”

They all laughed.

Ron dropped in via the floo to join them a few minutes late for the pizza. Having heard the past comment about formal clothing groaned with anxiety that his mother might make him wear that antique robe. Harry and Hermione reassured him that they would find something much more suitable IF he came shopping with them tomorrow.

Draco ate in silence listening and watching the Golden Trio. He felt like the outsider or the observer. Welcome, but not really welcome. He didn’t get their inside jokes. And, he could not manage to get past his upbringing to engage in conversation at the dinner table. He was never permitted that privilege growing up. Conversation was reserved for drinks and tea in the main sitting room after dinner in Draco’s house.

The Golden Trio talking about going back to school. Ron seemed to be waffling till Harry convinced him to at least get through his NEWTs as Fred & George had before dropping out. Besides, he would have to before any quiddich team would consider him. That settled the matter entirely. There were awkward moments in the conversation too, especially when it came to money for things. Hermione was totally at everyone’s mercy there.

Draco saw the discomfort. He also saw an opportunity. “Granger? How ready do you think you are for the entrance tests and for your NEWTs?” At her expected affirmation that she felt she was ready for both as soon as she arrived at Hogwarts, Draco made his offer. “The going rate for amateur tutoring of pure blood students is a galleon an hour per student.” Everyone gaped. “I owe the Weasleys… more than I can ever repay. So, will you tutor myself and Ron? I need someone to challenge my knowledge and he needs catching up. We could do this for three hours a day till school starts, excluding the weekends when Teddy is…. Here.” He forgot to ask if it was alright for Teddy to be here.

“That is brilliant!” exclaimed Harry. “Count me in on that! Hermione? Can you? Please?”

She stammered a bit shocked at the request, honoured by it too, though more shocked that people would actually pay her for it. “But you are my friends!” she protested.

“The going rate for a professional tutor is three galleons an hour per child under the age of eleven, five galleons per subject per hour per student for first year students, and an additional galleon per hour for every year after. If you were a professional tutor, Granger, I would be obliged to pay you eleven galleons per hour to tutor me. If you were very good at this or a specialist in a particular subject, that might double or triple for private education. I am being cheap, because it is you.” Draco smirked his cocky arrogant smirk to diffuse some of the anxiety and to annoy her on purpose to make her bargain with him.

She rose to that challenge and he felt he was starting to understand her a little, “You arrogant GIT! Fine. But you pay me two galleons per hour just because you were a git.” She sat back down with her know-it-all nose in the air and sipped the last of her butter beer most snobbishly. The fuzz from her beer left a fuzz-stache on her upper lip that made her look comical as opposed to proud. Harry and Ron smothered snickers while trying to let her know. She blushed furiously and wiped her face with a napkin. Draco could not help laughing a little, too.

They would cope. Harry felt that they would all manage to cope together. Draco was not so bad, a stereotypical manipulative Slytherin, but that was ok sometimes. Harry kept thinking how much wonderful fun and trouble they could have gotten into if Draco were on their side all through the years. He hoped they could continue to cope this well together over the next four or so weeks.

 


	20. Childish

CHAPTER 20 – CHILDISH

Gratefully for Draco, his night went without torment. He had sat the evening while Hermione directed Harry on how to properly rub in the healing salve for Draco’s wounds. Ron had stayed overnight and could be heard snoring from his room. Draco tried not to be annoyed by Hermione’s teacher-tone as she instructed Harry.

“Harry? Pay attention. If you are going to be an auror, you will have to know some first aid.” Draco only thought how little first aid actually helped against the terrible curses and hexes cast by dark wizards. But then, maybe it could help long enough till real help arrived and Hermione said as much.

Draco closed his eyes and simply ignored them, pretending a little as if they were house elves treating him and enjoyed the shoulder massage as best he could. He slept well for his first night after that. No nightmares woke him, and he almost revelled in this. What did wake him was a yell from Harry’s room and the sound of Hermione’s feet trotting from her room to his. Of course Harry suffered nightmares. Draco vaguely recalled that Harry had suffered them all the time since he had met him. Harry had been linked in a way to Voldemort. Draco shuddered to think what vile things Harry had to be subjected to experience. The Dark Lord took pleasure like Belltrix: sexual, sadistic, terrifying.

Draco rolled over. The clock by the window read 3:00am. He closed his eyes. Something moved over his bed an hour later and jumped off. His eyes flew open, but he did not move. A flick and tap and his wand clattered the floor behind him and the candle toppled and went out. Darkness swallowed the room. Draco gulped audibly. He had always been afraid of the dark. A thin dim moonbeam illuminated a bit of floor between his bed and the window. A skittering noise emanated behind him. His wand flew across the floor under the bed to hit the wall below the window. Draco held his breath. A low growl under the bed made him flinch.

Draco made a swift reach to try to either fling the curtains open or grab the wand. Both were just out of reach in the dark. A ginger flame licked his wand back under the bed. Draco pulled back to the bed. Heart pounding in his ears, he tried to muster the courage to grab his wand. He reached shakily down and inched his hand under the bed with dread. A flash of sharp pain dashed across his hand. He yelled and recoiled.

His door flew open and there stood his heroine for the night. Hermione held her wand aloft to light her way.

“There’s a monster under my bed! Be careful!” his voice almost squeaked with his fear. Only after the words tumbled from his mouth did he realize how ridiculous he sounded, like a child with imaginary monsters. The look Hermione gave him only added to his feeling, but her lit wand showed the beads of blood forming in four thin neat lines along the back of his hand. He thrust the back of his hand forward as proof. She walked across the floor fearlessly. He remembered how fearless she had stood refusing to answer his Aunt Bella, even the defiant glare between agonizing screams during torture. He admired her Gyffindor courage.

“Oh… just lick it, Malfoy,” she stated flatly as she crouched to peer under his bed with her wand.

He recoiled in disgust at the idea of licking blood, even his own. How barbaric and … and … gross! What was more horrific was the urge to obey her and … lick it. He fought the urge.

Without rising from her crouched position, she reached up and dropped his wand on the bed sheets. “Not yours, Crookshanks!” She pulled a large fluffy ginger furred cat from under his bed. It turned its head to Draco and he flinched in horror. She shooed her cat out of the room.

As she rummaged in his bathroom for a cloth and some water, he asked, “What happened to that cat’s face? Bad hex? Stray curse? Angry house elf with a frying pan?”

“Persian cat breeding,” she answered as she sat on his bedside and took his hand in hers. She dabbed the back with the cloth to clean it. He hissed. “Oh hush, it’s just a scratch.” It healed swiftly with the salve she rubbed into the scratches.

He watched her in silence as she had ordered. In his head, he thought how he ought to tell her what spell she cast on him to save his life. He decided not. Pure blood ancient magic was a fiercely guarded secret. Each family had their own. There were similarities with some of the binding rites. Some were universal as they were simply ancient, like wedding rites and vows that held stronger than unbreakable vows, such as the incantation she had recited the first part to. The pure bloods never used them anymore in case they needed to divorce. Draco wondered where she had learned it.

“Draco? What are you staring at?” Hermione asked uncomfortably.

“Nothing,” he lied smoothly. “Will… will you stay? Just till I’m asleep?”

She agreed as she crossed his room to replace the cloth in the bathroom. She returned and removed a candle stub from a wall sconce. “Containum,” she cast upon the glass and set it back in place. “Flamis eternis.” A small flame sprang to life inside the glass. Draco whispered the two new spells to himself to remember them for later. “As much as it is an eternis spell, it actually fades with the dawn light, so you will have to recast it each night. And, yes, I’ll stay. I’m sorry Crookshanks gave you a scare. Ron hates him. But he’s really very friendly if you just get past his prickly masks and give him a chance to show you how gentle and protective he is. I love when he purrs. It is so soothing. You always feel loved and never feel alone when he does that.”

She sat upon his bed as he curled up under his blanket. She rested a hand on his sore shoulder, which was starting to feel more normal with the proper care it had been receiving. “Now go to sleep, Draco,” she whispered. Like he’d been commanded, he drifted soon into peaceful slumber.

When he woke, she was not there. He figured she returned either to stay with Harry or back to her own room. He washed in his own bathroom, one that was not shared with five or more Weasleys. After strapping on his knee brace and dressing, he made his way down the stairs. Noise in the kitchen warned him of Ron who was up and routing around for left over cold pizza for breakfast.

“Want some cold pizza, mate?” Ron tried to sound friendly. Hermione insisted he stop being a foul git to Draco and he promised to try.

Draco was dressed very smartly like he was going to a formal meeting at the ministry. Ron wondered if Draco ever dressed down when he was not too injured to be otherwise. Draco wondered if Ron dressed like a bum all the time. Although, Draco held an unspoken decision to be polite to his benefactors and saviours. He was a guest in this house after all and that came with its own etiquette. Helping himself to the food was not appropriate etiquette of a guest.

Hungry though, he did accept the proffered pizza, having really liked it the night before. It was easier to eat cold and tasted fine. Ron kept his amusement to himself as he’d never tell Draco that he just engaged in the lowest of common people behaviour of eating cold pizza for breakfast. For good measure, Ron even put butter beer on the table.

The others trickled down slowly over the morning. Ron and Draco were glaring dangerously at each other in the sitting room over a chess board. Hermione walked into the room with Harry and watched from a distance for a few minutes. Then, “Accio king pieces.”

“HEY!” they both yelled in her direction.

“After we get back you can finish. We have to go to Diagon Alley, remember? Banking, clothes shopping, peeking at books.” She set the two chess pieces on the fireplace mantle.

Ron muttered, “She’ll be in the book store for hours while we do all the work.” The comment earned him a fiery look from Hermione that made Draco smirk.

“We should do the bank first,” suggested Draco. Harry nodded, stuffing his complicated letters into his back pocket. Draco pulled them out and put them into the inside breast pocket of his own suit jacket. “Never leave something this sensitive in such an exposed and easy to pick-pocket location.”

They each used the floo network to arrive in Diagon Alley. It was bustling during this almost lunch hour. They took lunch in the Leaky Cauldron then headed to the bank. Ron had no business in the bank himself so he headed to the sports shop to look at quiddich equipment and inquire about openings on any teams. They would meet him there after they were done. Draco thought to himself that they didn’t need to worry about losing Hermione in the book store, but Ron in the sports store… or in George Weasley’s shop. It was a toss-up where Ron would actually end up.

Mildly offended, Draco brushed off the dust of the floo, “You really need to get that cleaned. It should never leave so much… residue.” His dress pants still bore a little dust by the cuffs. He refused to bend down in public to clean his shoes.

He stepped out onto the street and began the slow walk to the bank. Many eyes followed them. Actually, many eyes followed Draco, ex-Death Eater. It was not unlike the last time he walked through here. He wrapped around himself the mantle of noble airs. Lifting his chin, he tried to emulate of all hated people his father. Perfect poise. Perfect grace. So many more watched him though than last time. His name on the whispering wind. His name had been in the paper recently.

Harry nudged his elbow, “Feels good to not be the one being stared at for a change.”

Draco didn’t seem to hear Harry. Hermione lightly touched his cane hand and he stopped to look at her. “What are you thinking? You are so deep in your thoughts.”

Very quietly, he answered her. “That I belong here. That I have every right to be here, as much as they do. That I am powerful. That I have their respect. That I am the bar they dream of reaching.”

Ron burst out into guffawing laughter. Hermione punched his arm hard, “RON!”

“Mate, do you actually believe that shite?” Ron asked between snickers while rubbing his bruised arm.

Draco’s stoic composure faltered. He looked from Ron to Harry to Hermione and back to Ron. “No. Not one single bit and probably never will., but I am trying very hard to.” He set his jaw and tried to ignore Ron.

Harry dragged Ron off, “You two? I’ll meet you on the stairs of the bank.”

Hermione sighed. Draco wasn’t sure if it was relief for the break from the embarrassment of Ron or for some other reason. “Draco, you do belong here.” She made her point by coming around and sliding her arm around his right elbow. He automatically crooked it like a gentleman. “You do have every right to be here, as much as anyone else. You are a powerful wizard. And you have the respect of many for the daring you had to stand up against not just the Death Eaters, but your best friends and your family for what you believed was the right thing to do. That takes great great… don’t take this the wrong way… great Gryffindor-like courage. And the things you are now doing? The changes you are trying to achieve? That earns you respect as well. They simply stare because they don’t see you often. You have been so secreted away from everyone while you were healing. They are just curious.” She walked at his slow limping pace, reminded of Remus Lupin. “Oh, and also, they are not used to you walking with us.”

She nodded to someone stepping out of Flourish and Blots and waved cheerily. Looking back at Draco she urged, “Hey… stop looking so stern. Smile.” At his fake almost sneering smile, she tisked and stepped in front of him. This was going to be a scene of total humiliation and he dreaded every second as they stood in the middle of the street. “Look at me.” She touched his cheek with a finger to hold his attention. “Forget them. Smile, just for me, okay.”

A soft blush rose in his pale skin, giving him a little color. His eyes watched her and softened, letting the world vanish for a moment. And he smiled, just a little, for her, because she asked and he found himself wanted to comply. She smiled back and he suddenly felt shy.

“There!” she declared victoriously as she took his arm again. She spoke with people around them as smoothly as his mother did. It surprised him how unawkward Hermione was. She moved among these people like she knew them all and was friends with them all. Usually, when he moved among them or more his father, they snapped to please him. They obeyed his commands with fear. Or they hid.

_“Draco, my son. There are two ways to earn the respect of others.” Narcissa stroked the platinum blond hair of her five year old son. “Fear will make them do as you tell them. Honour and love will ensure the always be and do what you need.”_

_“How does Father earn his respect?” asked an innocent boy with bright pale blue eyes._

_Sadness filled his mother’s eyes. The boy did not miss the look. He understood then that this was not the life she wished for either of them, but they were trapped in it. He didn’t know how to get out. He was only five. Mum would fix it though, or he would obey his father till he found his own way out._

_“Pap_ _ère Malfoy is very ill, Draco. Before he passes, would you like to see his ring? One day, you will wear one as heir to this family.” She opened a silk handkerchief to show Grandfather Malfoy’s authentic ring. She had removed it without permission from his room, or with it. No one would ever know. “Go ahead, put it on,” she smiled to her son. “And we will pretend for a moment that you a an ancient king in exile charged with the secret mission to protect those who cannot protect themselves and this is the only proof of who you really are, making you the key to the future of the family.”_

_The fair child grinned excitedly, the earlier distress already forgotten in the thrill of boyish fantasies of heroism. He gingerly took the ring and put it on. It was of course way too big. He jumped playfully around the room, pretending to brandish a wand, “I will protect you Mum from the evil king who has forgotten the old ways!” Then he yelped and dropped the ring. “Mum! Mum… it bit me!”_

_She gathered it up in the silk cloth and put it into her pocket. Then she soothed her startled son and kissed the tiny prick better and whispered that one day she would tell him of the great and wonderful secrets of Malfoy, but for now, he was late for his French lessons with the house ghost. He pouted but gathered his books and dragged his feet. “Draco, manners,” she chided, “You are a Malfoy, raise your chin and walk with grace.” He straightened. “That’s my sweet boy, now, smile for me Draco, just for me.”_

Draco tried his best to relax into his role a little more and to smile and nod to people. Although in this more casual social excursion, he really had no idea how to speak to people. He had only witnessed his father’s curt commanding of the populous like he was king of the British wizarding world. The boy he used to be was forbidden from speaking to anyone but his parents. That commanding air had its uses, but not when you wanted to appear friendly and maybe earn the love of the people. It was a confusing knife’s edge he walked. He felt like he would teeter and fall with each step. Hermione stayed close to steady him.

The steps of Gringots goblin-run bank rose before them. Harry sat on the fourth step waiting. “Cheers. I lost Ron at George’s. I expect he’ll still be there when we are done.”

Hermione covered her mouth as she giggled.


	21. War

CHAPTER 21 – WAR

“Harry.” It sounded so strange to call him by his first name, but they were calling him Draco, so he made efforts to show them the same respect. “If they say your letters are about the Black family accounts and estates, get me. I have all their legal paper work on hand. Since my mother was a Black and things I was thinking about for Teddy, I made sure to have them. But you might need them. We have some shared… investments.” By the look he received, Draco realized he bordered on foreign languages with them. “I’ll explain later.”

Hermione reassured Harry that Draco was not trying to take away the Black estate from him since she had read the letters before and have perused the confusing documents in Draco’s sleep. Nope, he hadn’t really earned their trust. Earning took longer than he expected and he had no real idea how to do so.

Harry wandered in to speak with the goblins. “Hermione, do you have an account here?” Draco asked.

She shook her head, “I only came to exchange muggle funds from my muggle bank account.”

“Then we will need to change that unless you wish to be a plebeian and keep your money in a jar under the bed.” She glared at him as he walked to the counter and identified himself. “Draco Malfoy. Lord of House Malfoy. I have come to modify my accounts, merge the vaults, and access the heirloom. I am also here to open a join account with Hermione Granger for the duration of one month to establish her credibility with this bank.”

“Terms of release?” asked the goblin.

Draco glances at Hermione then back, “Recommencement at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

“What kind of account?” the goblin then asked.

“Platinum international, full access inter and intra bank, 500 galleon credit. I will co-sign and vouch.”

Hermione gaped. He did not give her a chance to interject or protest. She did however understand enough about banking to know that a platinum account was like a Swiss bank account with some of the highest security. It came with fees he was assuming. Full access meant she could wire money to herself anywhere at any time or to any institution. And the credit… was like a muggle credit card. “Draco, you don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do. You can’t accept my bank note payments without something like this.” He handed her the first installment of the tutoring fees.

She gaped again and demanded explanation. “Securing fee, hiring fee, retaining fee.” The goblin oversaw a contract and he handed that to her. He then handed the goblin a bank note with a stipulation notation for an amount to be deducted weekly till September 1st. She noticed on the contract that he was obliged to provide letters of reference for her which would then later be sealed in her vault. She was handed a key, a booklet of blank bank notes that were spelled to her blood, and guided to visit her vault which turned out to be his mother’s old vault.

He merged his mother’s belongings into his own personal vault. All according to his mother’s will and what he was magically and legally allowed to do. He was refused access to his father’s accounts as his father still lived. While the legal world stated that everything from Lucius was rested from him and to be passed to Draco, goblins ran by different rules. They locked it away till Lucius was officially dead. Though, since Lucius committed crimes against the goblins and this bank directly, he would also be refused access. In fact, he would be locked within his own vault till death took him if he should ever enter the bank. Goblin Law.

Harry did come for Draco, if for no other reason than to help him make sense of … everything. Draco also was still holding Harry’s letters from the bank. Hermione was not permitted in that meeting. So she let them know she was going to get lost in the book store. Draco wondered if she was going to splurge with her new found financial freedom. Most teens did. He doubted it though. Hermione seemed very frugal and practical.

He and Harry left the bank and nodded to an auror on a corner. Harry at least had recognized the man from the war. Draco tried to smile and nod politely. A moment later, Draco found himself dragged into the Familiars Shop and surrounded by animals. A flicker of discomfort was followed by embarrassment about the early morning cat incident. Draco hoped Hermione didn’t gossip about it. Harry occupied the sales clerk with questions about owls. It left Draco to look around in peace. He found a dog from the breeding stock of his father’s. They had stopped breeding the dogs when it became clear the Dark Lord might return, somewhere around Draco’s second year in Hogwarts. This one was a friendly one and a very smart one. Familiars were hard to breed, hunters were easier. He knelt and petted the young dog.

Over his shoulder he heard Hermione, “You seem to do well with dogs. Why don’t you get one?”

“Because I have Teddy,” he replied. The silence was sudden and uncomfortable, especially with her reproachful look. Then he realized what he had said and how it could be misinterpreted and quickly followed, “A child takes time and energy that I do not have for a dog. It would be unfair to both to split my responsibilities. Maybe when Teddy is older and my life more stable and mine.” He sighed as the understanding settled and conversations continued. They left the shop with a small barn owl with a flat white face framed in a rich brown circle. Draco insisted on paying for it. A gift for Harry’s birthday. Harry named him Eldon.

They shopped a little for clothing and books, having a decent day. Hermione offered to take their things back to the house and rejoin them soon if they could get Ron out of George’s so they could make sure he had nice dress robes. Draco was clearly starting to ache from all the walking, his limp more and more pronounced. “I’ll apparate to the shop and meet you there.” It was just easier than slowing them down. It felt good to apparate. He needed the practice now too for he landed and wobbled.

The other advantage to Hermione not with them? She could shop for something fancy for herself in secret, along with a birthday gift for Harry. She watched Draco disapparate and apparate with the wobble. He had to now compensate for the knee brace and cane. Then she was gone to deposit their items in Grimauld Place via the floo.

Harry caught up with Draco and clapped him on the back. “Maybe you should have been doing that for the stairs of Gringots.”

Draco thought about it and then explained, “No, I need to work it more. There is no apparating within the school grounds. I need to be able to do those bloody stairs. But apparently, I need practice apparating too.” Draco was frowning while he mentally criticized his skill that should be masterful and was a little less so. That would change if he apparated a few more times.

A child came out of George’s shop with his mother, both having witnessed the apparating. Draco and Harry made room for them to pass. “That was COOL!” said the boy. “Mum, that’s the man from the picture.”

“Picture?” asked Draco, lost.

The mother smiled pleasantly at Draco. It had never happened that someone just smiled pleasantly back with no pretence to him. “Oh, um, yes, the one in the paper, where you are holding Teddy Lupin. It was very sweet. A moving story. My little brother still hopes to get an actual interview with you to supplement his story.”

The glance Draco gave Harry told Harry that Draco hadn’t yet seen that article. Harry promised to show it to him when they got home.

“Can you do that again? Apparate? We only use the floo ‘cause mum isn’t very good and doesn't want to splinch me.” The boy looked up excitedly.

Harry shook his head as Draco accepted the chance to show off like a hero. Apparating here and there and even tossing in a little bit of apparition flying. Ron joined Harry at the entrance to watch. “He’s blood good at that.” Harry turned and nodded to Ron. Sounds of disappointment drew his eyes back to the street for Draco must have finally stopped showing off.

Draco was gone.

Harry scanned the gathered crowd and the nooks and the street and the stairs. No Draco. He apparated to the stairs to be on higher ground to look for Draco. He saw nothing. Or rather no one. Four flying apparitions dropped in from the sky. A hush froze the streets. Black robed figures drew wands and turned white masked faces out to the people. Someone screamed. It shattered the stunned state and panic broke out instantly. Harry rushed down the stairs to be stopped by an auror. “Let me go! Let me fight!”

“No, I need a shield wall. Can you make a shield wall?”

Harry did what he could to shelter civilians. Ron stood beside him to help. People ran up the stairs toward the two young men. They would drop the shield wall to let them pass and raise it instantly again.

What happened to Draco? Where was he? They worried about him and Hermione, who was due back very soon. She would arrive to… this….

Draco was having a bit of fun with the apparating. He enjoyed the praise and the smiles that were so genuine and appreciative. He also enjoyed not falling on his ass. Apparating was easier than walking. He wobbled less and less with each apparition. He landed in front of an alley for the second time and searched for another good place to pop to, even considered doing a second little flight for the boy to show what that boy could one day do with practice.

Four Death Eaters dropped in. Draco sucked in a breath. Hands yanked him back and someone kicked his cane from his hand. He was shoved face first into the wall, cheek scraping on the bricks. “Obfuscato,” rumbled the voice of someone Draco did not know. “Mufflato.”

“Hello, my son.” That was a voice he knew all too well as it almost purred dangerously in his ear. With the obfuscate spell on the alley entry, no one would see them. Also, no one would hear them. Lucius knew Draco could not call for help now. A self-satisfied grin curled his father’s lips.

Draco’s heart dropped into his stomach along with his throat. Sweat turned to ice and cut down his spine. He had to press his palms to the wall in a desperate attempt to remain standing without his cane. His mind ran ferret circles with panic at how this could have happened and how he might escape it. He did not want to die. He was just starting to make his life his own, dammit!

“I saw you out there. Showing off like an entertainer for those muggle lovers. So now, not only have you turned blood traitor, but you are the lap dog to… them… to… her… that mudblood.” So much hate dripped from each word. Screams could be heard in the main street. Draco knew the fight had started. But was he the distraction from the actual danger? Or was the fight the distraction from what they would do to him?

Lucius held Draco firm on the back of the neck. Hidden, in this hold, it was too familiar. Rape would follow, if not death at this point. Draco vacantly wondered which would come first. He felt Lucius search with the free hand over each of Draco’s hands, then move through every pocket and into even less acceptable locations. “It isn’t here.” He almost growled in anger, “What have you done with it? Where is the key? I am blocked from the house. It demands the rightful key. What did you do, Draco? Did you make a new spell? Did you design a special key? Where is it? WHERE IS IT!”

Two things snapped in Draco’s mind. One, his father can’t get into the house. And two… What key? Draco had no key. He hadn’t been to the house. According to his paperwork so far, so long as his father lived, his father was still able to access the house. Draco was master legally, but not magically. Wasn’t he?

“Where is it Draco?” The words were hushed in his ear, calm, cold as steel. “I can force it from you. One way… or another.” Draco felt his mind invaded. Ransacked like a man furiously robbing a house, searching for one thing and ignoring all else. Not unlike the Dark Lord. Lucius had gotten better at it, dove deeper and faster than he used to and saw into more hidden corners. Draco let his mind go blank. That was too easy, in shocking states like this, what else do you do but go numb and ride it out. “Fine! I’ll force it from you another way!” Draco’s breath caught in panic. So it would be rape first then death after all. Right here in public just for the extra humiliation for Draco.

Hermione stepped from the floo and ducked a randomly flying curse. More Death eaters arrived as did more aurors. Some other people also joined the fight. It looked just like the wars they had fought last year. Fast apparating and fists and blades, wands and wand-fire. And then she felt it. She knew. Draco. Lucius had Draco. She could almost feel his terror. She saw Harry and Ron on the stairs of Gringots and apparated there. They welcomed her help. From this higher vantage point she scanned then apparated away. Ron yelled for her. Harry threw an attack to cover her passage, to protect her and give her an opening.

She followed the faint instinctual tugs.

Lucius jammed his hand into Draco’s pants. The obfuscate fell and Hermione yelled Draco’s name. Startled by the sudden exposure, Lucius sprang away from Draco and disapparated. Draco snatched the second of freedom and also disapparated. He landed in the middle of the fight and started to take out his distress and fury on the Death Eaters. He joined the fight to Hermione’s horror. She hurried back to Harry and Ron, with Draco’s cane in hand. She handed the cane to Ron as she was better with the spells than he.

They watched Draco, surprised at how good a fighter he was. Harry was reminded of the early duelling lessons. Draco had been deadly fast then, too. Draco didn’t care if he used dark magic in this fight. He didn’t care how badly he damaged these vile followers of his so-called father. It was dangerous what he was doing apparating and disapparating and apparating again and again in the fast paced fight. Splinching could so easily happen if you were not a master of this kind of fighting, if you were not incredibly accurate. The worst would be apparating into the same place someone suddenly stepped into or apparated into. That splinching ended with a merger of the bodied and instant death for both.

When it was clear that Lucius would not get what he wanted at this time, he signalled a retreat. Most of the Death eaters vanished. Draco apparated to the bottom of the stairs. Harry and Hermione dropped the shield wall and he apparated behind it in an exhausted heap. Ron handed the cane back to him and threw a defensive spell at a Death eater bold enough to keep fighting.

Final tally was two dead Death eaters, one injured one, three injured auror police, eight wounded civilians, one dead for getting involved, and a shop destroyed. The aurors toured the area before declaring it again safe and people began gathering the shaken remnants of their afternoon. An Auror turned to the Golden Trio, “Go home. We’ll handle it from here. If you still have business here, please do it tomorrow. We’ll have better protections in place by then.”

It felt like war all over again. War? No, not really, just a battle… ugly and terrifying and like any battle, over quickly and leaving people to pick up the pieces and pray for the dead. Battlefields all looked the same. Ron and Harry walked to the floo and waited. Only then did Hermione and Draco apparate there together. They took the floo back to Grimauld Place.


	22. Repercussions

CHAPTER 22 – REPERCUSSIONS

Draco took two steps in, his limp so bad he looked stilted. He sat on the first closest thing to him, an ottoman. His breathing was still tense and strained. His eyes seemed distant. No expression at all showing in his features. One hand lay limp in his lap and the other shook a little on the handle of his cane. He faced out the window as the others sorted themselves out. He didn’t even notice someone taking his cane from him.

He didn’t hear his name spoken either, not till the third or fourth time. It took every effort not to let the rattling in his soul shake through the whole of his body. “I’m fine.” The words seemed foreign in his ears, even though he spoke them, as if they came from someone else.

“I didn’t ask.” Hermione tilted his chin to look better at the scrape over his cheek. She studied it critically and asked one of the others to get her something to clean it with and the healing salve. She studied his eyes too just as critically. She could feel him shivering. Her eyes flicked to Harry.

“Shock?” he whispered. He fetched some blankets at her nod.

Ron brought in the medical supplies, “How can he be in shock? He was incredible out there! I have never seen anyone fight like that. Damn. Bloody cool. Bloody scary. Glad we never actually had to fight him.”

“He is a master at duelling, Ron,” declared Harry, “So you shouldn’t be so surprised.” Harry draped a couple blankets around Draco.

Hermione washed the scape and dabbed salve into it. “Where are you Draco?” she whispered to him as she tended his wound. “What are you thinking and seeing?” She carefully checked to see if he obtained any other injuries, relieved when she found none. Concerned that his belt was undone and from what she saw of Lucius, hand in Draco’s pants, was ever so glad for her intrusion.

She almost jumped when he caught her hand. “Owe.” She apologized and dabbed the scrape more gently. Harry brought out the chess board for him and Ron. It would offer a distraction to calm everyone’s nerves.

Hermione left to return with tea. She patted Ron on the shoulder, “You don’t get out of new clothes, eh? You come with me tomorrow and we’ll find you something.”

Ron moaned and whined. When Harry cheered for the distraction and took one of Ron’s knight pieces, Hermione smiled mischievously. Ron redoubled his focus on the game.

As dinner approached, Hermione checked on Draco often. His shivering had abated, but he still refused to speak. He had sipped his tea, which was reassuring. She knew he was scrambling for either memories or clues or some scrap of knowledge in his mind just by the way his eyes flicked without looking at anything in particular. They searched his mind’s chalkboard. She wished he would speak. She might be able to help.

Harry made some basic mac and cheese for everyone. They ate in the sitting room instead of the dining room. This way Draco didn’t have to move and Ron could beat the stuffing out of Harry again at chess.

A few hours later, Draco made his slow way up to his room. He tried to banish the feel of his father’s hands upon him. He tried to understand the attack. He tried to figure out why his father could not enter and what key he could be referring to. The thoughts had been swirling in his mind all evening. Burying himself under his blanket did not help. His dreams were even troubled with the anxiety, violation, and puzzles before him.

Downstairs, Harry and Ron and Hermione now discussed what happened in Diagon Alley. Hermione had missed the first part of the fighting. The other two had missed what she interrupted. Harry pursed his lips when she described it. How Lucius had Draco pinned without the cane against the wall. How Lucius had a hand in Draco’s pants right there in the alley! How humiliated Draco must have been staring out at all the people while his father did this but knowing no one could not see him through the spells. Ron needled her for how she knew where to find Draco, since there were hiding spells over the little alcove. She shrugged, “Womanly instinct? I had this…. feeling… like a tug that he was scared in that place. Then I felt the spell when I stood at its threshold and banished it.”

Ron shook his head and returned home to make sure his mum knew he was fine and alive. He would get smothered with hugs by her, even though he had messaged her as soon as he got to Grimauld Place. Hermione extracted a promise out of him to show by lunch so they could go shop for something fancy to wear.

That night, Draco had the hardest time getting to sleep. “Containum. Containum. Containum.” He cast the charms over three glass sconce covers and put them into place. He tried not to think about the dark curses he cast earlier, or the blood he drew with those curses. It had come so easily and at the same time sickened him. His father had poisoned his soul. Draco wanted suddenly to smash the glass covers into tiny shards. He drew a shaky breath a few times till he calmed, then cast the little flame spells into the sconces, “Flamis eternis. Flamis eternis. Flamis eternis.” Room lit, he felt he could sleep now. The shadows were essentially all banished by the gentle warm glow.

In the night, Harry was restless. The event of the day bothered him and he wanted to make sure everything was ok and everything was secure. He contacted the ministry and asked if someone can come by in a day or two to talk to him about what happened. An auror was assigned to visit next Monday. Right now, they were busy, but Harry could be sure all was fine. An auror would stop by Grimauld place very briefly to help reinforce the protections upon the house, just in case Lucius made a try for Draco directly there. An auror was already assigned undercover to watch the house. That reassured Harry, especially in the quiet of 2:00am.

He poured himself some cold tea and charmed it warm before returning upstairs with it. Noises could be heard from Draco’s room. Worried that maybe their measures of protection were not enough, Harry put down his tea on the floor beside the door and drew his wand. Cautiously, he opened Draco’s bedroom door. Draco thrashed and whimpered and pleaded in his sleep. Frowning, Harry entered the room. Draco curled in on himself and whimpered again, back to Harry and oblivious to the concerned intruder. The blankets had been almost completely kicked off in Draco’s distress. Harry reached over and rubbed the back of Draco’s shoulder to wake him.

Heart stopping shock woke Draco. Lucius was in his room cuing him to stay on his belly so he could have his way. Draco refused. Draco panicked. Draco yelled and rolled away. “No! No! No no no… don’t… please… no… don’t touch me!” He rolled off the bed and scrabbled back till his back was firmly pressed into a corner, protected from bodily invasion. His arms rose in front of his face and crossed like a defensive shield for he didn’t have enough sense to grab his wand. He cringed expecting angry blows and hexes for his defiance.

Harry tensed. He wondered if this is how he looked in the shower when Oliver Wood had startled him when he was having memory/experience issues. The locker room was empty save for them, and Oliver backed up a little then sat there in the wet shower across from a terrified Harry. Just sat and waited till Harry came to the realization himself that no attack, no unauthorized touching, no raping would happen. Harry decided to do as Oliver did, but he added a few words that he wished had been spoken to him to help. “Draco. Draco. It’s me, Harry Potter.” He came around the bed and sat a couple arms lengths distance in front of Draco on the bedroom floor. “I won’t touch you. No one is going to touch you. Not here. Not on my watch. I’ll just sit here till you feel ready to talk.”

That last bit Oliver had said to Harry. The conversation Harry and Oliver had in the hours that had followed helped more than Harry could have expected. Oliver was understanding, patient, listened. Oliver was also homosexual, so he could discuss the rights and wrongs associated with same sex activities, as well as offer support and help. Oliver was also not part of Harry’s close friends, so it just seemed easier to talk to him. He didn't want his friends looking at him funny or with sympathy. This was Harry’s plan for Draco now. He wanted to carry forward the aid that had been given him.

Harry sat and waited. It took Draco almost an hour to calm and sort his dreams from reality, sort the past from the present, sort out where he actually was and why. It took him time to relax enough to stop shaking and lower his arms to see Harry still sitting there. “It’s just me, Draco. Just Harry. You are in Grimauld Place. No one will come in if you don’t want.” Draco shook his head and Harry went to lock the door. Hermione was sitting in the hall with Harry’s tea, sipping it. They exchanged concerned looks but seemed to understand the line here. She returned to her bed. Tonight, Harry would handle things.

Draco’s face contorted and he buried it in his hands as Harry retook the safely distant spot he’d sat earlier. Draco drew up his knees and Harry remained there, comforting as a patient presence that would not advance, not unless Draco asked. Then, as Harry expected, little by little came the confessions, came the feelings and hurt experiences. They were broken and choppy at first, just snippits till Draco found he could not stop, needed to tell someone, tell this person in front of him everything, all the horribly things his father had done to him. Draco wasn’t even sure they were wrong, believing he deserved punishment, partially believing that they were done to vanquish his weaknesses, teach him to be strong. “Harry, he touched me… he touched me. He was… inside me. Even in my head…”

That Harry was grateful Dudley could not do. But then, Voldemort did all the time.

“Why?” That Harry could not answer. Why did people do things like this? After a moment, Harry did have an answer. Power. They did it for control and power over someone they felt might one day overpower them. This was a way to ensure they never did. In the end, Draco felt empty, a hollow shell, naked. He felt filthy, worse. “Merlin,” he mumbled through his hands, “part of me… part of me…”

“Liked it? And at the same time it scares you so much you are afraid you really can’t do anything because you don’t really know who or what you are.” Harry finished for him. “I know. That is the part that upsets you the most.” Harry watched the blond head nod, face still hidden in his hands. “Draco, it doesn’t mean you are a fag. You have to find guys exciting for that to be a truth. And if you are, there is nothing wrong with that either. So long as you never do what your father did. So long as it is never against someone’s will. That is the worst, he violated your trust and stamped all over it. Now you have these… thoughts and memories of experiences that are so awful and all you wish is that the experiences would make sense or go away.”

Draco looked at Harry for the first time and nodded.

“I’ve been there, Draco. They never make sense and they never go away. But time softens the blow. And sometimes, you can find ways to change the experience and create more positive memories from the experiences, if only to undermine the power they had over you.” Harry stood, knowing Draco was ready to deal with his issues of this, now that he had let it out and talked to someone.

“You offering to bugger me, Potter? I didn’t think you were a fag.” Draco’s defenses were coming back up. Yes, Draco was ready to deal with his issues again. There was no spite in his words though. He had after all been the first to acknowledge that homosexuals weren’t necessarily bad people.

“I am not a exactly fag. I definitely prefer women to men. And I would never force an issue or violate another. But yes, the offer is there. I doubt anyone else would be willing to make the offer to you and Oliver Wood is not here to help you or teach you anything as he did me. Oh… and no, I have never beggared anyone, so if you seek me out, accept that. However, I do know a few tricks I doubt Lucius would ever expect… even the Lucius in your head.” And like Oliver had done to him, Harry left Draco with those thoughts. If Draco wanted to make the experience have different meaning, the option was there. Harry would never offer again. As it was, Harry could not believe he had the courage to offer it at all. What Oliver did for Harry was because Oliver preferred men to women and knew what he was doing. Oliver gave power back to Harry that Dudley had taken. Harry only wanted to try to do the same for Draco, if for no other reason than to undermine Lucius. If Lucius ever had Draco pinned like that again, Harry hoped that Draco would no longer be paralyzed with fear.

The sun was rising and a thin beam shone through the crack in the curtain of Draco’s bedroom. Draco crawled back into bed and fell asleep thinking about all that Harry had said. He slept right through breakfast. Almost slept through lunch. Harry was talking with the auror guarding the house when Draco came down for food. Hermione had dragged Ron off shopping for fancy dress robes.

Draco had almost forgot. He decided that no matter what his father had done to him, he would not give in and be controlled by fear. A little of Harry’s advice wiggling in his mind. He made a small change of his plans for the fancy dinner. He really wasn’t ready to have a dinner at a dining table anyways. It reminded him of other nightmares he wasn’t quite ready to face yet.

He would not cower in the house after an attack. That is exactly what his father would hope and expect. Nor would he run out to the manor to see about this mysterious key, either. He didn’t need to give away the item to his father who must surely be spying. He would do nothing. He would go about his days like his father never showed up. Draco knew his father well enough to know that being ignored was the greatest of insults. It said he was worthless and ineffectual. Draco could fuss over the mysterious key later, although he had a suspicion already, the way his father inspected each hand. Lucius was searching for the ancient family ring that had gone missing when Draco’s grandfather died.

Dinner, at the finest restaurant in England it will be… just to spite Lucius. He sat in the main sitting room and tossed a little floo powered in the fireplace to make a call and thus a reservation for four. “Le Gavroche, 43 Upper Brook Street, London. Michel Roux.” When the owner greeted him, there was a moment’s pause, then he recognized the boy Narcissa had brought many years ago. They exchanged pleasantries and condolences. “Je veux une table pour quatre, s’il vous plait, au nom de Draco Malfoy. Mes amis sont Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, et Ronald Weasley. Nous viendrons à dix-huit heures.” He spent twenty minutes practicing that before he called. It had been a while since he used his French and decided it was important to practice.

Draco vowed to enjoy himself, in spite of his sadistic father.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of French:  
> “Je veux une table pour quatre, s’il vous plait, au nom de Draco Malfoy. Mes amis sont Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, et Ronald Weasley. Nous viendrons à dix-huit heures.” 
> 
> "I want a table for four, please, in the name of Draco Malfoy. My friends are Happy Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley. We will be arriving at 18h (on a 24hr clock, otherwise understood as 6pm)."


	23. Dinner at Le Gavroche

CHAPTER 23 – DINNER: LE GAVROCHE

Harry joined Draco in the sitting room. They just sat in quiet as if last night never happened. Just as the silence started to grow awkward, Draco spoke up. “The aurors can’t really protect this house. They don’t have a connection to it. They can cover it with a blanket of protective magic, but my … but Lucius can break that.”

“Well… shit!” Harry hated Lucius more now. “Any suggestions what we can do?” Hermione out with Ron was obviously not helpful so Draco was his next source. He knew Lucius best anyways.

“Yes. The houses of the old families are almost like living things. They have been imbued with so much magic over the generations that they take on a bit of a life of their own. The magic is old magic and responds only to the master of the house, bound in by blood. If you have a blood connection, then you can change the protections on the house. And you must have some kind of blood connection or Kreacher wouldn’t answer to you at all.” His reply was an excellent answer to Harry’s situation, but left more questions for his own.

They made their way to the room with the family tree to thoroughly inspect it. Sure enough, they found a Potter had acceptably married a woman of the Black Family. “Potter is also a pure blood family. You are the last Potter I know. But if Potter takes over Black, then the Black family magic will start to disintegrate. So, for the moment, you can make changes to the house protections. But unless you take on the name of Black, they won’t last. Understand?”

Harry nodded. It made sense. Damned old family blood magic. “I don’t want to become a Black. I had hoped to rebuild my family.”

“Would you consider, as Teddy’s godfather, to endow him with Black inheritance? And maybe we can get the Black family name tacked onto his own? Then one day, he could inherit this and carry on the Black family name?” This is part of what Draco had wanted to discuss with Harry.

Harry thought about it. He wanted to do something for his godson, but he also didn’t want to lose his only connection to Sirius. “Let me think about it for a while, ok? For now, how do I change the magic? And… can I un-disown members on the family tree?” Harry pointed to several of the blasted out names.

Draco looked at the family tree again. Sirius was blasted out and so was Teddy’s grandmother, Draco’s Aunt Andromeda. “I think so? It might depend on their reason for disownment and what the earlier family laws are, if there are specific rules for undoing such things.”

They began with learning how to sense the energy of the house and how to read the layers of magic. The goal was to find the core point of the house, which wasn’t necessarily the center of the house. That core point was where Harry could access all the house magic and make amendments, changes or additions. It turned out to be where a certain painting was. “Oh no. I can’t do it. She’s bloody well going to scream. I have her covered for a reason, Draco.”

“Then stand aside. She shouldn’t have anything to complain about seeing me.” Draco took a firm stand in front of the painting. Harry pressed himself out of sight beside the painting and gripped the cloth cover. He cringed as he yanked to expose the painting. The witch wailed. “Shut it you old dead bat!” Snarled Draco. “Draco Malfoy, son of Narcissa Black, honoured in this house. How dare you wail at me. Shut it or I will cast incindio and end every scrap of you.” Draco brandished his wand and the painting silenced. Draco smirked, “Better.” He and Harry forced it off the wall and face down on the floor. “Nasty hag,” muttered Draco indignantly.

The idea was to see the point of concentrated energy and try to manipulate it a little. Instead, there was a door hidden behind the painting. “Don’t touch it!” Draco called. “Never touch strange things in the home once owned by dark witches and wizards. It was hidden, so it is likely protected. Use your wand always before you ever touch.” Malfoy Manor was full of such dangers for unsuspecting fools trying to be thieves. And the most important things or places were protected even more fiercely. Some places the Dark Lord had no access. In anger, the Dark Lord destroyed many things and left behind an equal amount of curses. Who knew what went on in The Black family.

Harry waved his wand, “Alohamora.” There was a click.

Draco flicked his wand and the door rattled but did not open. “Ansi sientivizi.” Runes and strange symbols suddenly glowed around and on the door.

“What the? What did you do?” asked Harry.

“I bade it to reveal its magic. Damned if I can understand it all though, let alone undo it.” Draco stepped closer and studied it. “These are the runes of sealing. This one is part of some deadly curse for wayward fools. We have it in my home. These are the signs of blood binding. The rest, unique to the Blacks and dark magic.”

Harry summoned Kreacher and commanded him to tell them what was there. They both expected to hear something like the dungeons. Kreacher cowered with his answers. “No no. I’s not allowed there. Is the Master’s room. Is the heart of Black.” Well, it wasn’t a dungeon, but Kreacher had never been in there. It was a room though. Draco concluded it was likely a vault with the family secrets.

“So what do I do, Draco?” asked Harry unsure whether to give up on this or not.

Draco mulled it over as he searched his memories for the right spells and runes. “Use your wand and change this rune here to one that looks like this.” He showed the rune in light with his wand, letting the rune float in the air for a few seconds. They decided the make the spell changes, but not breach the door, for now. Draco walked Harry slowly through some changes that he could advise. Keying it to not allow Lucius was tricky but doable.

“That takes care of your father,” Harry declared with satisfactions. “But, it won’t deal with anyone he might send in his stead.”

“I’ll need to access my household library to fix that. And all things considered, I am not going to run there when Lucius is likely there just waiting to see how I get in.” He was not going to give his father an inch. He could wait. He had more patience, like his mother. Lucius had none. So Draco could just as happily bide his August here, then bide his time for almost a whole year at Hogwarts. The corner of his mouth curled up. This would drive his father nutty, hopefully enough to make a critical mistake. Draco wondered if using one unforgivable curse on a man who had used many on others could be forgiven.

The two young men struggled to replace the painting as she screamed at them both till they got her covered. They left Kreacher to soothe the woman matriarch of the Black household. While they waited for Ron and Hermione, Draco contacted a trusted barber through the floo to come visit them. He and Harry got neat trims and Draco had the back of his neck shaved. Hermione had commented that this cut had looked good on him and since she was the only girl to honestly say anything looked good on him without intensions of bedding him or marrying him for his money, he concluded she must be right. The barber was indeed professional, even down to collecting every single scrap of hair clipping and incinerating them before his clients for proof. Draco and Harry paid him and went off to their respective rooms to change.

Draco was ready first. He stood in the main room by the floo smartly dressed. His charcoal pants were perfectly creased. A silver green thin turtle neck he bought yesterday seemed to make his eyes seem bluer. His long dress robe looked like an almost Asian suit jacket that came down past his knees. (For those who don’t get it, go watch Neo in The Matrix) He gave his cuffs a slight adjustment to make sure the edges of his green sleeves peaked through properly. He cast a polish charm on his shoes to ensure they shined. Lifting the front lower part of his robe aside, he tucked his wand out of the way in his belt in the little holder made for the wand. A tiny pouch hung on the other side that had an expanding charm in it so it could hold his personal essentials and money. He leaned on his cane refusing to sit. Crookshanks and been through the room and he was sure the cat left fur about on purpose.

Harry joined him and asked if the others returned. He wore black pants and a black suit jacket with a similar style shirt as Draco, only in burgundy. He had a golden silk handkerchief in his pocket. Draco cast the polish charm on Harry’s shoes to teach him how. “Thanks. I bet Hermione is having trouble with Ron. At least his mother didn’t send him with an ancient robe like at the Triwizard Tournament Ball.” Harry shuddered at the memory of the horrible robe. So did Draco.

Before they even finished their shuddering, Ron and Hermione stepped from the floo. They brushed off the dust. “Are we late?” asked Hermione seeing these two very smartly dressed men before her.

“No, we have an hour till our reservation at Le Gavroche.” Draco enjoyed the shocked looks or looks of confusion on people’s faces. “The night is on me. You subjected me to… your food. Now I subject you to mine.”

Harry and Ron didn’t know the restaurant, though Harry heard the name and knew it was expensive. Hermione, however, knew it to Draco’s surprise and he made mental note to ask her how she, a common muggle, would know of such a place, let alone have actually been there. At least this would make traveling there much easier. They wouldn’t need to take the dusty floo, they could apparate there instead.

Hermione ushered Ron upstairs to hurry and change. Harry asked Draco many questions about what to do and not do while there. What was appropriate and not? Draco was pleasantly surprised and shared the social etiquette expectations with Harry while they waited.

Ron skipped down the stairs. A deep burgundy suit vest turned robe in that it was long in the back and had sleeves and a simple collar like a suit, almost. It had no pockets though. His pants thankfully matched and he wore a cream coloured dressy button shirt with his Gryffindor tie and his simple black school shoes. Harry practiced his polishing charm on Ron’s shoes. Ron was dressy, but still somewhat casual. Draco needed to up that scale a little. He took out a golden galleon from his tiny pouch and transfigured it. He especially enjoyed watching Ron gape as he pinned the lion cuff links into place and neatly pinned the tie with a larger lion. “You can give those back to me tomorrow.”

The floo lit up and Molly’s voice could be heard already praising them all for looking so good. She sent over a camera and INSISTED they take pictures. Harry took most of the pictures, but Ron took a few so Harry would be in them. Ron yelled for Hermione to hurry.

Draco had expected ruffles. Hermione had always worn something with flowing ruffles from the hues of pinks veils when she danced with Victor Krum to the short red dress he had glimpsed at the Slughorn party back in sixth year. This was much more… grown up. A long red dress draped and moved with her curves, hugging her form from the one shoulder strap down to her knees where it then flared slightly to give her ease to walk. Her shoes were the same red ones from the Slughorn party, but they matched beautifully. Her hair was drawn back with crisscrossing red ribbons with small silver and gold beads.

“Close your mouth Weasley. Drool is unmanly.” Draco maintained his composure, but inside he did much the same as Ron. Harry stepped forward first to tell her she looked stunning. She covered her mouth with a small giggle and thanked him. A gold chain around her waist held a small black pouch, beaded like her hair. Likely, it was spelled to hold everything including the kitchen sink. A silver necklace hung around her throat with a small gold pendant, a locket. Harry took the camera from Ron’s numb fingers and snapped some picture of Hermione. Draco Stepped in, leaned his can against the chair and balanced on his good leg so he could use both hands to drape the black caplet over her shoulders. He wanted to say something, something gentlemanly, something Harry had not said. Everything he thought of sounded horrible. Her eyes met his for a second as Harry snapped a shot. They both parted in silence. Harry then sent the camera back to Molly

They were ready. They all cleaned up so well, some even with thin budgets. All Draco could think was that no one would ever have suspected they were anything other than a group of wealthy pure bloods out for a casual dinner. Hermione apparated to the restaurant with Ron and Draco with Harry. The entrance seemed non-descript from the large brick building. You almost would think it were a large manor crammed in the middle of London, but like Harry’s #12 Grimauld Place. Draco lead them in where they were met by an older man who greeted them, checked their reservations and invited them to sit in a small lounge while their table was prepared for them.

Ron did not understand why they had to wait for their table. He figured that if they had a reservation, then the table should be there waiting and already prepared. Draco corrected him. “We are waiting for them to properly color coordinate the table to what we are wearing and for them to set the appropriate sculpture on the table. Usually they place silver and gold hounds on the table for my family, or a sleeping dragon. They might put something more appropriate for my guests. And the wait is normal. Here we get to sit in the oxblood leather chairs and be served their finest champagne or other specialty aperitif.” The older gentleman returned with four tall thin glasses of sparkling champagne and a dish of the finest chocolate truffles and a small selection of crackers with cheese, caviar, and other toppings, enough for them all to each have a chocolate and three cracker pieces. Draco whispered, “They also gauge our introductory conversations to make sure suitable mood music and lighting fits what is likely to be the talk of the evening.”

Draco raised his glass to toast. “To clean slates and new beginnings. May we all have bright futures, great grades, and strong friendships. Also, a slightly belated happy birthday to Harry Potter.” Everyone toasted to those. That toast inspired talk about the tutoring Hermione would be giving them, to start promptly tomorrow morning. They tried to bounce around things they remembered. As the restaurant was a mixed muggle and wizarding restaurant, when their conversation bordered on something too magical, the older gentleman would politely ask them if they preferred a window seat on the second floor or a cushioned private booth. The muggles sitting not too far away were watching them curiously. Hermione shifted the conversation to theater and films as Draco requested the private booth for their comfort. The older man asked if his injuries were recent and if any special needs had to be met. Draco declined the special needs, beyond very comfortable seating.

They were soon escorted down a flight of stairs and through an elegant room with well-spaced tables. Each table sat four or five. The colours were rich shades of burgundy, brown and green. The white table cloths stood out crisply with freshly polished silverware. Art on the walls were authentic pieces that complimented ever sections. They sat at a table in a green alcove booth with well cushioned green chairs. Artwork behind them depicted works by Renoir, a muggle artist. The table’s centerpiece was an exquisite silver and mostly gold sculpture of a griffon reared up with its wings spread. It was charmed to change its position every fifteen minutes. Hermione beamed with delight. Renoir was one of her favourite artists and she loved the sculptures, describing how art like this was one of the signature features of this restaurant.

Speaking of signature features, there were three rounds of starters. First came traditional French onion soup followed by escargots. Draco tried hard not to smirk at the confusion of the many utensils and tried to show how to use them by example. At Ron’s curious question as to what escargot was, Hermione volunteered with a smile that it was snails as she savoured a buttered cooked escargot that she dipped in the light hollandaise sauce. Ron shuddered and almost turned green remembering the fouled slug curse where he was puking up giant slugs for an hour at Hagrid’s hut. He was much more interested in the next starter that arrived, the signature dish called soufflé suissesse or cheese soufflé cooked in double cream. They shared a dry white wine while waiting for their first meal course.

Draco remained entirely silent while they ate having learned not to speak at the table. The others managed to coax him out of silence by the time the wine was served. It was altogether hilarious watching how Ron and Harry joked about the weird utensils. Draco laughed with them as Hermione smothered her giggles behind her hand. They tried all sorts of new foods, a rare few had even Draco puzzled. Clearly the chef and waiters caught onto the joke and evened the playing field a little. Hermione had asked for specific things that reminded Draco that she had been here before, like when she asked for a specific mysterious rosé wine she tried but didn’t recall the name. They asked her when she was last here and then they brought out four for her to try.

Draco reassured her it was fine. Then he HAD to ask, “Ok, so how is it that a commoner muggle has been to the most expensive restaurant in both the muggle and wizarding world?”

Hermione smiled almost coyly and he thought she would not answer. She did reply after a sip of her wine. “My father brought me and my mum here when he was promoted to head dental surgeon three years ago. We may not be wealthy enough to do anything on a whim, but we weren’t lacking. My father worked very very hard for what we have… had…I…” She bit her lip and got quiet. She sipped her wine and mentally shoved aside her sense of loss and sadness for the family she could never see again. Draco felt sorry for having asked.

Harry saved them with Ron by derailing the conversation with the next course. “Good thing there are many courses or some people (eyeing Ron) would starve to death.” Ron glared back. Chuckles broke out around the table again right through dessert.

The waiter brought over something new for them, “A Canadian whiskey, out of Quebec, very sweet with its maple flavour. It was brewed by muggles you know. And yet so aptly named.” He paused before turning the bottle for them to read the label before he stated with great pleasure, “Sortilège. It means magic or spellcraft.” It poured thickly like a liquor and yet dark and smooth like any whiskey. After they all had a glass over ice, Draco insisted that a bottle be made available for him to take home to enjoy.

As awkward as many moments were at the table, they all enjoyed this treat. Draco especially as it felt a lot more like the normal fare he was used to at home, or at least the calibre of cuisine. The late hour they arrived home at meant nothing this evening. They would feel it in the morning though when none would want to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are my link references for this restaurant. Remove the spaces and copy paste to your browser. The second one, I recommend clicking the tab “Look around the restaurant” and then play the video.
> 
> http:// www. toptable. com/ venue/menus/ ?id=267  
> http:// www .le-gavroche .co .uk/
> 
> Sortilege is a real Maple Whiskey out of Quebec, Canada. It is one of my favourite indulgences.


	24. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the chapter is an easy to read Black Family Tree since the mural is hard to read.

CHAPTER 24 – FAMILY

As expected, Ron snored through the morning with determination. He would not likely wake till lunch. Harry, too, slept long and late. However, Hermione was up checking on each of the young men in the house. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, closing Ron’s door quietly. She tucked the blanket better around Harry and he mumbled as he rolled over. She was just as careful closing his door. She hesitated at Draco’s. _Don’t you ever knock?_ She smiled and creaked the door open a crack to peek inside.

The room was meticulously cleaned and organized as Draco liked it. Even the bed was made. There was no sound from the little private bathroom. Where was he? Obviously, Hermione was not the only one awake this morning. She searched the house and found Draco in the sitting room downstairs with some tea. He was pouring over files, documents, forms, law scrolls and more at the small desk. She helped herself to some tea. When Draco spoke into the silence, she almost jumped.

“Hermione, can you bring down any books from the library about blood binding, house laws, and Black family history?”

She would have protested being ordered about like a servant, but it was a question, not a demand, even if it held the tone of command. He expected her to comply. She scowled at him briefly before she did. It was books, she would be helping him research. This was something she wanted.

They sat together looking through the books for any clues to the Black Family house spells and the disownment criteria and how to undo those situations. “Are you going to help Harry re-instate Sirius?”

“Yes, to better secure the inheritance he holds at Gringotts. Some of his letters were informing him he had no access or legal right to some of the Black estates or vaults because Sirius was disowned. I also want to reinstate my Aunt Andromeda so that one day Teddy might be able hold claim if Harry ever wants to pass this down to him.”

“Here!” cheered Hermione. She quoted from the history chronicle. “Sirius Black, elder brother to Regulus Black, has been stricken from the family right of inheritance for disobedience to the family and for running away from his duties.” She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Geez. Disowned because he ran away as a boy? Why not just try to figure out why he was so upset and make amends instead of blacking his name out as a member of the family?”

“Pure blood families are like that. The Black have stricken a great deal from their family line. They are one of the most staunch supporters of pure bloodlines. Look, they even encouraged inbreeding. My mother’s mother is also Andromeda’s but not Bellatrix’s. Bella’s was her father’s … sister.” Draco shuddered.

“Well that totally explains why she was so mental!”

Draco nodded. “The good news is that Sirius can be easily reinstated. Unless, unless his reasons for running away were intended to ruin the family, which they weren’t.” That at least allowed Draco some leeway to help Harry gain leverage in Sirius’s name.

Hermione’s voice sank as she found the chronicle for Andromeda, “Oh no… Andromeda was disowned because she abandoned her betrothal vows to secretly marry a muggle farmer, Theodore Tonks.” They both sighed heavily. Then she perked up. “Hey, the chronicle is wrong!”

“What do you mean?

“It says she married a muggle farmer. But he wasn’t. He was wizard!” Then her voice sank again, “But I guess the error means little since he was muggle born.”

“No… it means a lot! It means they disowned her because they were afraid she would produce squibs, because they thought she married someone with no magic. But she married someone with magic and produced a fine witch!” He grinned with this new information. It was thin, but it might just be enough. “I’ll need to get into that hidden room and see the Black Family records and old laws. But I think it can be done. This gives both Harry and Teddy a chance.”

She gave Draco a wary look. “Aren’t you Black family blood, too? More than Harry, anyways.” The challenge was there in her eyes.

“You want to know if I really do plan to take this from Harry, don’t you?” The stoic mask fell back into place defensively. “I could as the only blood relation without any smears in the actual line. But, I have enough to worry about. You saw it all. And besides, if Andromeda is reinstated, her bloodline takes precedence to mine since she was the elder and my mother the younger. The question you have to ask is does Harry want to deny Teddy his birthright just to have something of Sirius?”

It was a low blow, he knew it. But he needed Hermione to see that option. Harry had no family. This was all he had. Was it fair to ask Harry to give it up? Was it fair for Harry to leave Teddy with nothing? Either answer to those questions were at the same time right and wrong.

Kreacher entered and asked if he should start lunch. Draco saw the sceptical trust in Hermione’s eyes again and replied to the old house elf, “You should ask the Master of the house, Harry.” The elf grumbled about Potter and shuffled off to do as was expected of him.

Hermione crossed her arms at Draco. “Harry has blood claim. He has to in his line somewhere or the elf would not listen to him at all. That claim might actually be more powerful than we think if we go up the family tree.”

He limped from the room with Hermione close behind. They made their slow way up to the room with the family tree on the wall. They stared at it a long time before Hermione stated, “Bellatrix was not the daughter of a brother and sister. But Sirius and Regulus are the sons of kissing cousins.”

Draco huffed. “The family tree is wrong. Magicked to avoid the true sin of sibling parenting. In old families, you can marry cousins, niece to uncle or nephew to aunt, but never parent to child or siblings. Bella is an accident of birth that the family covered up. She is technically elder sister to Sirius and Regulus. My mother told me. It must be in the locked room or vaults.”

He reviewed the tree more carefully while leaning on his cane. “I thought this family was older than my own. I am surprised it is not.” He tapped the first names in the tree. “Late 1800’s… My family goes back into the 1500’s.” He wondered then how come the family was considered old and noble. A glance at Hermione showed her with a small secret smirk. “What?”

“Well,” here came the teacher tone she took on when she had read something she thought everyone should have known and was now about to teach people what they missed. “The Black family is old Syrian nobility, landed in England in the Dark Ages. They earned the title of nobility from the King at the time, Arthur Pendragon. They were not magical people at all! Not till one day a boy died by dark magic and awakened the ability within the family blood. It was in one of the Hogwarts Histories. Or, maybe it was in the restricted histories.” Now she wasn’t entirely sure where she read it and vowed to herself to confirm exactly which book. “Sirius Black, died at the age of eight and by doing so bound his family to the life of magic and rules of some kind.”

“Ah! He was the blood sacrifice for power. I wonder who offered him up?”

Hermione tapped the next heir, “Phineas Nigellus Black became heir in his brother’s place, thus securing the family line in both nobility and wizardry. He completed that binding by marrying the witch, Ursula Flint.”

Harry leaned in the door, having quietly listened to the theories, and added from a book he held in his hand, “However, his two younger sisters did not agree with his methods. Elladora became a recluse and Isla defied her brother by abandoning the family to marry a muggle. She was then stricken from the family line by the patriarch wizard, Phineas Nigellus Black, never to be heard from again. It was Phineas Nigellus who adopted and modified some old wizarding family laws to his own ends and to promote wizards over muggles, having helped establish the separating of the two worlds in shrouds of secrecy and mists.”

Hermione interjected, “That was the laws of world separation designed to protect the wizards and witches from a terrible thing that happened in the earlier Middle Ages, something called the Burning Times when muggles mass executed witches and wizards.”

“Only because some witches and wizards were too daft to mind themselves and some wanted freedom to do as they pleased without care, so they do it hidden behind illusions.” Ron yawned widely. “My dad told me this. That’s why someone named Phineas Black was executed in the wizarding world for supporting muggle rights and the unity with the wizarding world. It makes a kinda sense. If the muggles were killing wizards and a wizard suddenly supported muggles, he would be going against the laws.”

Hermione gaped in shock that Ron actually recalled anything of import.

Before an argument could break out, Draco added, “We don’t know enough about those first laws to know the right or wrong on either side. It was like a war with politics. Both were probably right and both probably wrong. Bottom line, the magical world and the muggle world were forced apart and laws put into place to try to protect both sides. Just some took those laws and twisted them to make out that wizards were better than muggles and thus better than anything born of muggles… ignoring the fact that they too were once born of muggles.”

“They probably thought they were some evolutionary jump, superior to other people.” Hermione had enough and stormed out.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t think we’re gonna get tutoring today.” When Ron grinned broadly, Harry cuffed him. “We both suck and we both need help.” Defeated Ron excused himself to find Hermione and try to talk her down and maybe dig up some lunch.

Harry brought over a chair for both himself and Draco. “Let’s pool our knowledge a little more and look over this tree. Do I have any right to be here? Other than what is in Sirius’s will?”

Draco scanned the tree, “You do, but distantly. Teddy technically has more right than both you or I, if Andromeda can be reinstated, un-disowned. But he is way too young for that responsibility.”

“Soooo… if I un-disown Andromeda, I lose my only connection to family that I know to Teddy. But if I don’t, then a damn him from ever having anything of his own family.” Harry hung his head, trying to look like he was studying the text in his lap.

Draco was amazed at how swiftly Harry understood the circumstances. He tried to soften the blow, wondering why he was bothering to soften anything for his adversary. Right, he owed a life debt and well, they were not really adversaries anymore. “Teddy is too young. The Black Family inheritance would be yours in trust till Teddy was old enough. Fifteen would grant him right to some things, eighteen would grant him right to be Master of the House and Family if no regent were present, twenty-one if you remained regent for him. You are his god-father. That makes you his regent, even if you have not accepted to take him on as a son.”

Harry winced. As god-father, he should be adopting Teddy and caring for him, but he really didn’t know how and Teddy was such a handful. He felt so guilty about it.

“Harry, Teddy is only four years old. You have eleven to sixteen years to work with. Also, you have a family and estates under the name of Potter. You should be finding out exactly who your actual family is.”

They both looked up at the family tree again, both wondering if somewhere there was such a tree for the Potter family. Draco knew the Malfoy family had one, but not as a mural like this. He rather liked the pictorial spread and thought that he might like to create such a mural when he eventually returned to his estate.

To break the tension, Draco continued on with looking at the family history from the book Hermione left with him before she stormed out. “Rules of nobility and old pure blood families are to have an heir and a spare. I wonder why my mother never gave my father another child?”

“Maybe she knew what kind of git your father was and figured that either you would save the family or it would be best to let it die out completely.”

Draco licked his lips pondering that possibility. It was the most likely one. “Ok, so heir and a spare. Phineas Nigellus named his heir after the brother who died as a child for their magic, Sirius. Then names his spare after himself. When his spare defied the family on favour of muggle rights, he was disowned and another spare became necessary. Thus born was Cygnus and he must have had fun for every two years birthed more children, Belvina and Arcturus. Arcturus being the youngest is almost inconsequential. His daughters are married into other families, Longbottom’s doddy grandmother and Cidrella who married Weasley. The Weasley name must have been a disgraced name by then for her to be disowned. And Charis, who is part of the Crabbe family.”

Harry took a note. “I want to un-disown Cidrella.”

“None of them can claim lineage to the Black Family estates,” mused Draco. “So Belvina was married off to Burke making her line no longer worth keeping track of. Since Phineas had no children before or after his disownment, there is no point to do anything there.”

“What if he was disowned unjustly?”

“You really are going to be a righteous bastard about this, aren’t you?”

Harry glared back at Draco. “If I want to restore honor to a family line, I think I have every right to be that righteous. Don’t you?”

Draco accepted the verbal slap. Yes, he wanted to restore his family’s honor, he just didn’t know what honor it was. “You might want to find out the original Black family laws before you think about restoring honor. They might have defined honor very differently from how you perceive honor. I know my father had his own idea of honor.”

Harry nodded and looked back at the tree.

Draco went on, “So the sons of note here are the strong lines of Sirius and Cygnus. Your claim in this family stems from Cygnus’s line. He had four children. The eldest son carried on the line and the younger son was a squib and thus disowned. The two daughters… well Casseopeia died recently as a spinster and Dorea married a Potter. She was not marked as disowned, so your family must have been pure blood and in good standing at the time, the marks against your family seem to lie with your father. And no, I am not being insulting, so relax. Your father married a half-blood witch who turned out to be very powerful. It was a good move for the Potter family. Shame you suck. Better hope Hermione tutors you later.” He grinned teasingly at Harry who at first didn’t seem to be taking this as a joke, but then grinned and chuckled back.

Draco breathed in relief and went on, “So the eldest son, Pollux, had a daughter and two sons. Let’s come back to that generational mess in a minute. Sirius Black Senior, the heir to the Black Family, had three sons. Only the eldest married and carried on the line.”

“I wonder why the other two didn’t marry or have children.”

“It might be better to ask how they died.” Draco suspected something dark there. “The tree might be incomplete there for a reason. I wonder what the Blacks were hiding.” They both flipped through the books and stared at the tree to no avail. “Fine, later. It must be in that room. So, Sirius Senior’s eldest son married a Scotch woman and had two children. A daughter that got married off and a son.”

“There’s like fifteen years between them.”

Draco nodded. “Maybe she couldn’t have other children and Orion is from a mistress. Or they had many miscarriages till they finally had a son. Or, they birthed a bunch of daughters and each were executed at birth till a son could be born. Yes, Potter, these things happen. Imagine that pure blood families are like dogs with the head of the family setting up a particular breeding program for his offspring. It would account for those disownments that fell outside the breeding program.”

“That is disgusting.”

“It gets better… just wait. Here is where it gets good and messy. Pollux’s daughter has two boys of the same age about her all the time. Her younger brother, Cygnus, and her cousin, Orion. The cover-up is that she got pregnant with her brother’s child while Cygnus is courting the foreigner, Druella Rosier. Leaning on her ignorance of our ways, the girl child is declared hers to save its life and secure the marriage. Rosier is a very poor but pure blood family. They would have needed this marriage and she would have likely accepted the situation for her family’s sake.”

“How do you know this?”

“She told my mother who told me.” Draco raised his wand and spat a small mark onto the tree to black out Bellatrix’s name. “For her cruelties and her attempts to ruin the family line with her insanity. She should have been disowned long ago for instability. She should never have been married off. When you have a crazy bitch, you end it so it doesn’t breed. You don’t go breeding it to an equally crazy hound. Thank the gods they didn’t have offspring!” Harry nodded to Draco’s statement. “To keep the sins quiet in the family, Pollux’s daughter, Walpurga was married to her first cousin, Orion. They produced two sons, an heir and a spare, who themselves had no children.”

There was a long pause. Draco had to think. Kinships papers were something he at least was very good at understanding. He had written up many of the dog pedigrees and had studied his own family line in depth, save for the older lines whose secrets remained locked away. “Since Sirius and Regulus had no children, the Black family line retraces to the next eligible son, Cygnus, who only had daughters. So technically, then, it would retrace to the next official Black.” Draco used his wand to light a little path along the family tree to the next Black male child. “That leaves the Black Family technically considered to have died out. Sirius saved it by writing you into his will.”

“And that means what?”

“It means that if you were not written into the will then all daughter’s families can fight over the carcass of the Black family holdings. There are three male children left in the line, though none with the Black name. You as a Potter, me as a Malfoy, and Teddy as… as a Tonks. Potter has its own line, lineage and holdings. So does Malfoy. Tonks is a muggle family that by fluke produced a wizard. Teddy… has nothing. This is what I wanted to discuss with you. I don’t want to take the Black family anything from you, but I don’t want Teddy left with nothing either. If one of us officially adopts him, then he becomes a Malfoy or a Potter and the Black family still dies out. Since you are not a Black and neither am I, neither of our children can claim rights. We can only hold this place till a Black male child lays claim.”

“But you just said there are none.”

Draco licked his lips. “If I give up the Malfoy name and take on Black, I become the head of the Black family.” He raised a hand to stop Harry’s near protest. “That would be the stupidest thing to ever do. Malfoy is an older family and I think wealthier. I am not going to throw that away. I intend to fight for every scrap of it. If you give up the Potter name and become a Black…”

“Then I give up claim to my family and anything that was theirs.”

“Exactly. And I doubt you will do that.” Draco saw Harry frown and shake his head. “I thought so. That leaves Teddy. You don’t feel up to raising him, even though you are his godfather. But you should have a say in his life. I am offering to raise him, foster him. I had originally planned that if no woman would have me, then I could at least give Teddy the Malfoy name and he could be my heir. It’s still a little questionable whether I’ll be able to have kids after my… injuries.” It was a hard confession; the harder one was accepting that there might not be any woman who would want him. And he did not want to marry out of some contract. He wanted to marry because he and whoever wanted to.

“What about Remus Lupin’s line?”

“He was an only child of a family with very little and they declared him dead when they realized he was a werewolf. Teddy, as part wolf like he is, will get nothing from that side of his family.” It was a sad fact that Draco needed Harry to know. Harry had something. Draco had something. Teddy really and truly had nothing.

Harry suggested, “Why don’t we leave the option open for now? If you don’t have a son by the time Teddy is of age, then you claim him as heir to the Malfoy’s. If you do have a son before Teddy is of age, then I will give the Black family over to Teddy.”

Hermione set down lunch, surprising them both and they wondered how long she had been listening. Since lunch seemed somewhat cold, she must have been listening to a great deal. “Why don’t you make that an unbreakable vow, for Teddy’s sake?” It was her way of making sure neither forgot this promise, making sure Teddy would have something when he grew up. She already knew what it was like to have absolutely nothing and never wished this sense of loss and loneliness on anyone.

Harry and Draco agreed. They locked arms and Hermione drew her wand. They repeated their promises for Teddy as Hermione sealed it. She had studied the spell from the book on blood binding that she was reading.

Today’s tutoring lesson had been given by Draco on family history. But that did not mean Hermione was letting any of them out of the actual tutoring for their Hogwarts exams and NEWTs.

* * *

 

 


	25. Hogwarts Letters

CHAPTER 25 – HOGWARTS LETTERS

Draco had to admire Hermione anew for how much knowledge she actually managed to retain in her brain and be able to communicate back to everyone in various way so that each of them ‘got it’ in some way. The sheer amount of knowledge reminded him how she really was an incredible witch of this era… and also made it mostly forgivable for the intensely irritating teacher-tone she took on.

“Ronald Weasley!” Her sharp tone made the red-head jump.

He shook his head of the fuzziness that was creeping in between his ears. “Mione… this is just… so… god-awful boring…. Isn’t there an easier way to learn this garbage?”

Draco could see why their relationship had ended. Ron really had little respect for academics, while Hermione practically lived for them. He intervened before she set the room on fire with her anger. “Sure, if you wish to tap into dark magic or allow me to curse you with something invasive so you retain it. However, the consequences of such things means you will either end up with mush for a brain after 30 days or you will fry out your nervous system and end up bed-ridden for the rest of your life.”

Ron hung his head, “I’ll stick to the old-fashioned way.”

Harry has swiftly noted what Draco had said because he did not know such things were possible and thought that maybe… just maybe it would be useful for his auror training later on. Draco saw the notations but decided to chat with Harry privately about those things. It was all too possible that Ron would become foolish or desperate enough to attempt something that stupid. For everyone’s sake, that was best avoided.

Three hours passed remarkably slow till Hermione started drilling them for answers at the end. A large owl interrupted the knowledge drill with four letters in its beak. Draco winced at the shrill girlish squeal that escaped Hermione in her excitement. “Hogwarts letter! They are Hogwarts letters!” She handed them out to each of them. Silence fell for many minutes while they each read their letters. “Placement exams are at the end of next week…” That was significantly sooner than any of them expected. Interviews the following week. NEWTs the week before the school opens.

Ron let out a strangled pathetic squeak. “I’m not ready…”

“You will be ready,” stated Draco flatly. “They are not the NEWTS next week, just tests to see where we are and what needs more work. Think of them as a way to know exactly which NEWTs you need to practice extra hard for and which ones you can relax about.” Draco was not a fan of wasting his energy, so this made the most logic. It also saved him from having to hear Ron squeak again.

Each letter was different beyond those initial similar dates. The sobering realization was that these were not Hogwarts Acceptance letters. They were entirely conditional, yet wholeheartedly inviting and encouraging. Acceptance letters identified your classes and provided you with a supply list.

Draco’s placement exams would include charms, transfiguration, and potions, which he failed in 6th year. Added were astronomy, history, and defense against the dark arts. Arithmancy joined the list with a note that yes he may drop care of magical creatures. What worried him was that he would take an entrance exam for muggle studies. The course was on his requested list for this year, but he had never taken it before. To his dismay and misery, herbology was on his list with a note that if he is remotely interested in medicine that he will need it. He frowned to see flying as one of his test. He wanted to say something venomous, but then remembered what the doctor had told him, that he might not be able to fly. If he wanted to play quiddich at Hogwarts, then he would need to be able to pass a flying test.

From this he could already write off that he didn’t really need tutoring in the core courses except herbology. The core courses needed only refreshing, catching up. Herbology and muggle studies were the real concerns.

The rest of this week was completely absorbed by their studying, practicing, and tutoring. Draco instilled a personal routine to help him through this. His morning was spent reviewing the theory from textbooks for the courses he felt comfortable with. Lunch was followed by any number of personal projects, those mostly included research into Teddy’s condition or studying the documents for the estates and finances. Late afternoon was three intense hours with their tutor. Supper was full of chatter, although Draco usually stayed silent. Draco would throw himself back into the practical training for the early evening, sometimes joined by one or more of the Golden Trio.

Everything seemed to be going so well. Even when Teddy came for the weekend, that too went well. Teddy was playful and curious, even though he still did not speak, he at least listened. Draco leaned secretively against the door frame listening to Hermione show Teddy how to play the piano. He had not known she could play. Teddy sat upon her lap with the largest grin the boy could possibly have. It was contagious. Draco found himself smiling as Hermione and Teddy plunked at the piano some very simple tune. Once Teddy was asleep, Draco cornered Hermione, “You play, like truly play the piano?”

She wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or not. “Yes. I had a tutor for five years before I started Hogwarts. I am out of practice now, but I remember some still. Do you?” she was rewarded by the flash of color that swept across his face. “I would love to hear you play someday.” She moved past him to her own room for bed.

“Someday,” he whispered in her wake.


	26. 6th & 7th Year

CHAPTER 26 – Sixth & Seventh Year

 

They apparated to the gates of Hogwarts at the edge of Hogsmead. Ron suggested they grab a butterbeer, for courage. Hermione rolled her eyes and told him no. Harry looked back at Hogsmead, old habits of wariness from the recent war bidding him to watch their backs. Draco adjusted his Slytherin tie. It was the only thing of his uniform he chose to wear. He leaned heavily on his cane and tried not to look like he was. His white knuckles were all that gave away any evidence of his nervousness.

The gates opened and they walked in. The grounds were cleaned up, though looked differently. The quiddich stadium had been moved. A swath of the Forbidden Forest had been cut back. A whole wing of the old Hogwarts castle was gone, neatly bricked to look like there was never a wing there at all. New students to Hogwarts would never know something was missing. There was a new tower and most of a new wing in construction off the other side of the castle.

Hermione had managed, with Harry’s help since those two had come to the school a few times to donate their efforts to repairs, to learn that today was the placement exams for only the sixth and seventh year students. Each day would be a different set of levels. And throughout the process, there would be aurors watching everyone, especially parents. Today would be a make or break for Hogwarts and the last year’s sixth and seventh year students.

The four of them climbed the steps. They were met at the doors by that reporter. “Malfoy? After the exams, can I have that interview?”

Draco glanced at Hermione then back and lifted his chin. “Only if you are taking your exams to return to school.” He opened the doors and walked in without waiting for an answer.

Hermione giggled behind her hand and whispered, “Good job. I know his uncle wants him back in school and he’s trying not to be. You left him gaping.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth twitched up. His bemused expression vanished moments later as they entered the school. He hadn’t realized he had stopped walking, nor that he had started shaking, till Hermione rested a hand on the middle of his back and spoke gently.

“We are right here, Draco.” She stepped around to face him. She went through this with Harry, too, when they had started helping with repairs. “Draco, look at me.” His eyes met hers, but his breaths came and went tensely. “I am right here. It will be fine.”

Draco held her eyes and absorbed the feel of her hand now on his chest. An anchor. A lifeline. When he felt more under control, he nodded to her and they continued to the Dining Hall. He left the Golden Trio to sit at the Slytherin table. From there, he looked over all the tables, watching the students file in. Within the hour, the doors closed after the teachers sat. There were so few present from sixth and seventh years. There were eight students at Hufflepuff, ten at Gryffindor, six at Ravenclaw, and only four at Slytherin. Slytherin…. One seventh year student sat there that Draco did not know, barely recognized. He was such a quiet student that seemed so very very average. He was also one of the very few of that year who did not get involved in the Death Eaters. Draco wracked his brain to remember more about this student. Darius. Darium Scarlet. That’s who he was. A mudblood. He vanished from school just as things started to get bad. Draco remembered that his family went into hiding, but his parents still managed to be killed by Death Eaters. How Darius survived, Draco didn’t know.

Darius looked over and gave Draco and sure and actually reassuring nod. “Thank you for saving my sister’s life. She’s with a friend right now till I get home. I’ll bring her back for testing with the other first years.”

Now Draco really recognized him. The sister! The first year he had helped save, the one who clung to his robe before she dashed past Arthur to her family. Also a Slytherin, but such a precocious little blond thing, the opposite in behaviour to her quiet brother.

The other Slytherins at his table were Blaise and Pansy. Blaise gave him a genial smile. Pansy, glared poisoned daggers at him. So Blaise was still a possible friend, perhaps now he could strengthen that friendship. He would need an ally within his House.

A light brunch manifested as Professor McGonagall explained how the entrance exams would work. “Let me begin by telling you all that I am so very proud of you for your courage and determination, for being here today of your own free will.” Pansy made a rude noise and received a pointed look from the Headmistress.

The elderly headmistress stood strong and looked each student in the eye one by one. “Today, we will assess how much you remember from your last courses so we can place you according to your aptitude and get you caught up from where you might be falling behind. Your assessment tests will follow this order: History, Muggle Studies, Herbology, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, Transfigurations, Potions, Divination, Flying, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. For all of you it will determine which courses you will take, which you can pass straight to NEWTs for, and whether the courses you take will be seventh year, sixth year, or supplementary to get you into sixth. Please proceed to Professor Flitwick’s classroom. Good luck. You, all of you, are the prefects for your houses as of now. You are the students who will change the world.” She smiled so proudly at them, hoping they did not see the tears stinging her eyes.

Everyone stood with varying degrees of nervousness. For a change, the four Houses walked through the halls and stairways mixing their company and staying close. They spoke quietly, greeting each other and wishing each other luck, regardless of which House they had been sorted into. Hermione up front looked back and slowed everyone a little so they did not get too far ahead of Draco’s pace. Their eyes met for a second. Then Blaise clapped Draco on his sore shoulder and he hissed. Blaise apologized with a wince.


	27. History and Muggle Studies

The students slowly milled into the classroom usually used for Charms. They all seemed a bit puzzled. One of the students from Ravenclaw asked why they were not having class with the ghost, Cuthbert Binns, in his classroom. Flitwick coughed to clear his throat. “I will be handling the exam for History of Magic until your new teacher arrives. The classroom and thus also Professor Binns were lost with the South Wing. Please find a seat and take a moment of silence for this loss while I distribute the exams.”

History of Magic was the most boring of classes unless you asked an interesting question. Otherwise, the most interesting thing that ever happened in the classroom was the ghost entering the room through the chalkboard that he never used. Everyone hesitated as they sought seats. Two levels of students were now mixed, but there were also far too many empty seats. At 28 students, it still wasn’t even a full class. Harry took initiative and sat next to Draco. It set a precedent to mix Houses even again here. No one dared speak. Exam scrolls were passed around with the Leviosah spell before Flitwick sat upon a stack of books to wait for the students to finish writing.

Everyone read and wrote madly through this exam, sometimes scowling in confusion. Midway through the exam, the classroom doors opened and a young man, hardly older than the students entered the room. He must have been barely 20 years old, if that. His dark hair curled into a short and yet unruly mess. His dark eyes held Flitwick’s as he strode purposely to where the old professor sat. They shook hands. Students looked up curiously but returned to their exams.

At the end, he collected the exams. “Hello everyone,” his American accent clear and projecting easily. “My name is Jaecob Balog. I have been signed to teach you History of Magic. Some of you may remember me from my time in Slytherin House when I transferred in for the last half of my last year. I am glad to be back. I studied in the Academy of Salem in the United States and just completed an early Masters Degree in History with a minor in Educational Methods. History is so often written by the winners. No one ever wants to hear the real truth. And so many parts of history, stories of heroism and conspiracy on both sides, so often get smothered. I will hide nothing from you. I hope to enlighten you on the History of other cultures and in turn hope to learn from you the history that you are in the process of making for it will be what gets taught in the future.”

Something manifested before each student, surprizing them. A card with an image. “You each have picture of someone in history. Someone who is very much like you. Someone who has done things like you have done. Or has done things you could do. All great people. When you return to the school next, some of the details will appear on the back of the card. When you rejoin the school full time, the remainder of the details will appear… unless you can figure out who the picture is beforehand. Welcome back to school.” He helped Flitwick down.

“You will all remain in this room for your exam on Muggle Studies,” announced Flitwick. “Those of you not taking the Muggle Studies exam may return to the Dining Hall. The Herbology exam will be held in the Greenhouse. I will see you all again later today for your Charms exam. Good luck everyone.” He and Professor Balog left the room.

Pansy spoke first, “Wow, he was fucking cute!” Several students laughed. It broke the tension. Only four of the students stood and left the room Harry among them. The reporter, who wanted Draco’s story, stayed. Draco assumed it was to see what Draco took exams in. Draco decided to take all the exams just to be annoying.

Pansy left the room. Darius stayed. Blaise waffled. “I haven’t taken anything in Muggle Studies.”

“Neither have I,” said Draco. “I want to see what I know.” He was grateful that Blaise sat back down and beside him.

Ron started to get up and Hermione yanked him back down. The two argued briefly. Apparently Ron won and left the room.

Finally, their teacher entered the room. Another new face for the school. She was short, standing barely five foot two. She had red hair that reminded Draco of the Weasleys. She was slightly plump but carried herself like she could own the room. She was dressed like a muggle. “Good morning, uhm… hm… afternoon actually. My name is Professor Tara Clark. I will be your teacher in Muggle Studies and will be handling the management of extra-curricular activities. And no,” she laughed easily, “I will not handle Quiddich. I like to keep all four paws on the ground, thanks.” Everyone laughed. “I understand some of you have had classes in this course already.”

“Excuse me?” called a Hufflepuff student. “Where are you from?”

“Canada. I studied with the American Black Forest Seminary and have been teaching Magical Studies to Muggles through Crescent Moon School of Magic and Paganism. I am sure you will all get great laughs at what I call some things and will have to excuse me if I laugh at some of the strange names you Brits call things. Loo, Lolly, and Lorry. I only just figured out Loo.” Again laughter broke out in the class.

“Now that we have had a bit of fun, let’s get down to business.” She handed out her exams.

“Professor?” asked that same Hufflepuff. “Are you a Muggle?”

She gave the most mysterious smile. “I will reveal that little bit of information at Christmas. Good luck on your exam. You have 30 minutes starting… now.”

Many students gasped and dug into the exam. This was the first time some of them had ever seen a multiple choice exam. Draco looked up often, trying to sort out the puzzle of the teacher before him. No wand. Maybe she was a muggle. Carried a pouch heavily covered in runic protections. Maybe she was a squib? He couldn’t even guess her age. He looked back down at his baffling questions.

After their exam, they filed out of the class, heading to the Greenhouse. Draco was glad for the long sit for those exams. The stairs of the school challenged him a great deal. Blaise walked beside him at Draco’s slow pace and gossiped, “I heard a rumor that we are all being mashed into a single dorm tower.”

“They won’t. They just named us Prefects. We have to stay with our Houses and be responsible for the students of the other levels.” Draco knew there was at least something to Blaise’s rumor, but also held to logic.

“Then maybe the rumor that the Head Boy and Head Girl will share a room.” Blaise grinned and wiggled eyebrows.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Maybe they will share a common room, but they won’t put a girl and boy together, not even if they are in a solid relationship. It would set a bad example to other students. Where are you getting these rumors?”

Blaise grinned again with a slight bounce in his step. “Listening to teacher conversations. Easy to do when you are sleeping with a teacher. It’s unfortunate that said teacher will still make me work for my grade though.”

Draco barked a laugh. He could not believe what he heard. Then he wondered which teacher Blaise was sleeping with. As open and friendly as Blaise can be, when he held a secret, it would go to his grave before anyone discovered it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally stole the name for the History teacher from the Website: Hogwarts Is Here. This is the teacher of History on this interactive Hogwarts web school. And the other school (Crescent Moon School) is a real Pagan school in Montreal, Quebec, Canada.
> 
> http://www.hogwartsishere.com  
> http://crescentmoonschool.blogspot.ca/


	28. Herbolgy & Arithmancy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The arithmancy (numerology) notes here are accurate with today's and this world's understanding of numerological calculations and meanings.

The walk from the charms classroom where their first two exams that morning were held, through the halls, up and down the many stairs, to the greenhouse for the Herbology exam took Draco the entire 30 minutes. Blaise kept an easy pace with him and a genial conversation to try to distract him and keep him moving. Everyone was taking a seat in front of a plant. Draco sank down on the very first seat he could, the bench just inside the door. The young reporter sat on the end of the same bench.

All color was fading from Draco’s face and he gulped short breaths between the waves of pain and black spots he was starting to see before his eyes.

Then Neville Longbottom sat down beside Draco and presses a small vial into his hands. “It will dull the pain but not make you fuzzy headed. I got more and if you need more in 4-6 hours, just ask. I made a bunch for those here with injuries. You aren’t the only one… just the one worst off.”

Draco closed his hand around the vial tightly as he gathered his focus, then opened it and swallowed it down. “I didn’t think you would be here.”

“Why not? You’re here. We all gotta be brave sometime.” He stood and retrieved the exams books for himself and the other two on the bench.

Blaise slid over to Draco and whispered, “Now that is a transformation! Talk about ugly fat worm to stunning butterfly. I would totally do him if he were interested.” Draco gave Blaise a shocked look. “What? I would do you too if you asked.”

It took Draco a moment to find his words, “you… like to bugger… you like blokes? I thought you liked girls.”

“I do and I do,” he flashed a shameless grin. “I’m pansexual.”

Before Draco could comment or ask anything… or even properly react, Neville returned with Professor Sprout who broke up the two Slytherins to ensure Nevil sat between them. “Now then everyone, you have a booklet to write everything in. The name of the plants are at the top of each page. In the picture space, you are to cast the _Impressonis_ charm to capture a sketch of the plant that goes with the name. In the lines space below the picture, write everything you know about the plant: useful parts, cultivating, properties.” She held up a booklet and indicated the last blank pages. “There are a total of 25 plants, but only 20 are helpfully named in your booklet. Five are unnamed. Good luck. You have an hour; start now.”

Neville opened his bookless and started to madly scribble. Blaise patiently waited for one of the seats with a plant freed up before leaving the bench. Draco glances to Neville and thought that was a good idea, and a good use of time. This part of Herbology he could do easily. He filled in all the information he could for the 20 named plants. The five unnamed ones were going to be much harder or even impossible. Neville was then marking a tiny number in the corner of each page. Draco frowned, not understanding at first why before realizing that the man beside him was noting which potted plant belonged on which page. That did not help him one bit.

When he finally got up and limped to the plants, there were very few he could recognize in their alive and fresh state. Lavender. Rose. Mandrake. Stinkweed. Gillyweed. He sighed heavily and handed over his incomplete exam. He knew this was going to be one of his worst.

While he limped out, he was met by Hermione who waited for him. “You are walking better,” she noted. She knew not to ask how that exam went. “Neville’s extract worked.”

“Yes, it did. I don’t know what he gave me, but whatever it was, it has helped.”

“A willow bark extract, very concentrated with a couple other things,” she explained.

Draco thought to himself as they walked to the dining hall. “He is really very good at Herbology.” Before entering the hall, he caught Hermione’s hand, “I don’t think I can do this. At best, I will be late to every class. As worst, the stairs will kill me.”

She turned to face him properly and cupped his cheek in her hand. “You can do this Draco. You can. And you have very good reason to. We will find a way around the problem of the stairs. You. Can. Do. This. We will do it together.”

His eyes searched hers for a long moment. He leaned his cheek a little into her hand and closed his eyes to absorb some of that courage and comfort. Then he nodded. For Teddy. For his family name. For what he hopes to give back to the world and the changes he hopes to make happen.

Hermione stepped away and walked over to the Gryffendor table, leaving Draco to realize that everyone witnessed the strange intimate conversation that they thankfully could not hear. Draco swallowed his embarrassment but could not hide the rise blush in his cheeks. He sat among the few Slytherin’s present. Pansy made a disgusted face at him and turned a little so she could eat without looking at Draco. Uncharitable words came to his mind for her. No. No, he did not voice them.

“So Blaise, pansexual?” asked Darius Scarlet.

“Oh! You heard that?” laughed Blaise, “interested?”

Darius coughed into his fist and shook his head. “I am taken, and very committed.” He twitches a hand where a promissory ring with a very simple design wound around his ring finger. “Gaelen and I will be married when I graduate.”

“Gaelen… OH! The guy you visited in Canada! Congrats!” cheered Blaise.

Draco simply watched and listened. This sort of conversation would never have happened before. Fags ranked only slightly higher than mudbloods before. Things were very different elsewhere in the world. Things were very different here and now. Darius was quietly in love. “Your sister staying with him? Did you bring him here to England?” Draco found himself asking, wanted to feel connected in some positive way to this lightness at his House table.

Darius tucked his chin with a little bashfulness and nodded. “He graduated from his school in June this year and has applied to a university here in England. He wants to study folklore at Oxford.”

“You are all disgusting!” declared Pansy who picked up her tray and moved down a few seats to get some distance from the rest of them. She nearly jumped when Professor Septima Vector dropped a parchment and quill in front of her, then she continued on to put one in from of Draco and Darius but not Blaise.

“Well! That is MY cue to leave! I am going to study my charms and practice while you all do your arithmancy and astrology exams.” Blaise wiggled his fingers, “Toodles.” He strutted out with a light bounce along with several other students.

Draco didn’t have to write this exam, but did out of curiosity and because he promised himself that he would write every one of them… to make the reporter sit them, but also just to see where he stood. The question at the top of the page read:

_Write your name, the school’s name, and the school year you are planning to attend. Calculate the combination of these then add THREE to predict what this year’s number is for you. Place that number in the center of a magic square and solve it. The symbol for your gender in the square indicates houses. Explain the meaning of your core number and explain the numbers for the houses as they associate to you._

Draco blew out a breath, puffing his cheeks at the complexity of this question and wondering about the meaning and reason behind it. He started with his name: DRACO ~~LUCIUS~~ MALFOY. He made a point to strike out his middle name as a way of visually dissociating himself from his father and not wanting that name to be part of this prediction.

_DRACO MALFOY. 49136 413667. HOGWARTS. 86751921. 6 th year. Adding all these numbers one to the next: 4+9+1+3+6+4+1+3+6+6+7+8+6+7+5+1+9+2+1+6= 95. Break that down to 9+5=14 and this 1+4 = 5. FIVE is the number of the progressive learner and/or teacher (freedom, mobility, and change, being half-way). _

That was not the final answer. He had to add THREE to his number.

_5+3=8. Organization and governance (materialism, ambition, success, authority)._

Creating the magic square was much more confusing and he wrote and rewrote it several times till he came to his final conclusion.

6

| 

_1_

| 

8  
  
---|---|---  
  
7

| 

**5**

| 

3  
  
_2_

| 

9

| 

_4_  
  
 

1 & 5 are Gryffendor ; 2 & 6 are Slytherin ; 3 & 7 are Hufflepuff ; 4 & 8 are Ravenclaw

_The houses associated with me are 2 (Slytherin) and 4 (Ravenclaw) on my foundational line and 1 (Gryffendor) on my directional point. I was sported into Slytherin, but I am very smart and love learning. I likely could have been sorted into Ravenclaw without my parental influence. I am sorry. I do not understand the directional point as I missed the classes on that. Does it mean that Gryffendor is a heavy influence upon the direction of my coming school year? That would make sense as I am surrounded by Gryffendors (Harry, Hermione, and Ron) as they are my current support network._

He wondered how this was an actual exam. Divination always baffled him, even in this very scientific and mathematical kind. He looked it over some more. “Wingardium Leviosa,” he charmed the parchment over to the teacher and limped out with the aid of his cane, deep in thought.

_My number is FIVE for the progressive learner and teacher. This school year is an EIGHT for organization and governance. I must be careful not to succumb to power, greed, or materialism._


	29. Arithmancy, Astronomy, & Charms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Draco's actual birthchart and YES, the star that was midheaven above him when he was born is actually Mu Draco. Coolest research I have done ever to date for a fanfiction (except perhaps that done for glassblowing and metal smithing).

_My number is FIVE for the progressive learner and teacher. This school year is an EIGHT for organization and governance. I must be careful not to succumb to power, greed, or materialism._

Harry had not been in the Arithmancy exam. While the exam was going on, he had fetched his broom and waited for Draco to come out. They both looked back into the room at poor Stephen Cornfoot who was sweating through this exam and looked like he was going to be sick. Harry and Draco shared a small chuckle.

Professor Septima Vector called a halt to the exam and as she usually did, she counted to nine out loud to allow students to finish their last sentence or calculation. “Accio Student Exams!” she called. All the exams snapped into rolled scrolls and flew to her place at the teachers table of the dining hall. “The astronomy exam will be held in the Observatory and you are expected there in 15 minutes.” There was a rush out the door by those due for that exam.

Draco’s amusement evaporated. “There is no way I can get to that in 15 minutes.”

“Sure there is. Follow me out,” Harry motioned him to follow and he did.

“Harry,” he was still uncomfortable calling the Golden Trio by their first names, especially here at Hogwarts, but he made concerted efforts. “I don’t know yet if I can fly.”

“You’re not doing the flying. Just sit and hold on.” Once Draco sat sideways on the broom behind Harry and was holding on firm around his waist, Harry flew them up to the observatory tower. Draco’s hands suddenly clenched in Harry’s clothes remembering the death of Dumbledore and Snape. “Hermione told me that you were worried about getting about. I’ll come get you when she comes out. Unless you finish before her.”

The conversation and challenge distracted Draco from his anxiety. “I think I will be out before her. I haven’t done any astronomy classes.”

They flew into a huge open window and found they were not the only ones who decided a flight would be easier. There were several brooms parked there, leaning against the wall. Draco eased down and took his cane from Harry. “Good luck, Draco.” Harry flew off to do a round about the school and see how the construction was doing. Though, he really should be practicing for his charms exam.

Draco wondered if Blaise was practicing for his exam or secretly snogging the mysterious teacher. Then he wondered how many new teachers were actually going to be there. Would Slughorn remain out of retirement to continue teaching potions? He hoped so. He could hear students huffing and puffing as they desperately tried to climb the tower stairs to arrive on time, only to look aghast and downright pissed off that THEY did not think to fly up on their brooms, too. Draco has already gone inside the observatory proper and found seating.

Professor Aurora Sinistra, stood dourly by a little table next to the huge telescope. “Everyone, take a sky scroll and parchment scroll. At the top of each sky scroll, you are to write your name and wait for your exam to manifest. Take turns coming to the telescope and adjusting it to the position indicated on your exam.”

 _What was a sky scroll?_ , wondered Draco. He picked up his exam last, watching everyone else collect a midnight blue scroll and a parchment and a quill. It was rather clear after that. He opened the dark scroll and wrote his name on the top. The ink came out automatically silver and slightly glowing to stand out in the dimming light as the professor closes all the curtains in the observatory. Everyone’s scrolls were coming to life with information. Draco watched his own with wide amazed eyes. Under his name was so much information about himself that he felt transfixed to watch the letters and symbols as they wrote themselves on the dark page.

**Draco Malfoy**

_Born on a Thursday_  
_June 5 th, 1980 (premature by 2 months and should have been born at Lughnassadh)_  
 _early summer, late at night, 11:15pm_  
 _last quarter, waning phase moon_  
 _in Chippenhan Wizarding Hospital Emergency Room, Wiltshire, England (51N 2W)_  
 _Sun in Gemini_  
 _Rising sign Capricorn_  
 _Moon in Pisces._

 

_Adjust the telescope to the year, the day, and time of your birth, we well as the longitude and latitude of where you were born to find the constellation assigned to you._

_EXAM:_

  1. _Identify the assigned constellation and provide any information you know about it._
  2. _Explain the details of your birth and your birthchart._



Draco stared at this information for a long time. It told him things he never knew about himself, and those things had nothing to do with astronomy or astrology. He was supposed to be born on Lughnassadh. That was a special date in early August (usually the 1st or 2nd) associated with solar deities and financial wealth and great power. Sounded very much like he was a specifically planned birth, very normal for old pureblood families. That would have made him a Leo and not a Gemini. He doubted his father was pleased with either result, or the Voldemort insisted Draco be born early to ensure he was a Slytherin. Otherwise he might have been sorted into Gryffendor. That made him wonder a little about his arithmancy exam. He was born early, two months early. That is almost non-viable by wizarding standards. He almost died and not with a proper wizarding midwife or with the retainer. His mother birthed him in the emergency room of a hospital, not even a birthing room. What had happened? He wondered about Harry’s birthdate and recalled and how the prophesy was that there was going to be a child born about late July or early August that would be the Dark Lord’s undoing. Maybe that is why he was forced to be born early? Otherwise… be might well have been born the same time as Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. That sent a chill down his spine as he remembered that the Dark Lord nearly killed Longbottom’s parents and that it was his crazy grandmother who saved him who knows how. Also, that shortly after the Dark Lord attacked them, he went after Potter’s parents were he killed them and sort of died trying to kill Harry. First he had considered that maybe his father abused his mother and forced the birth, but thinking about this and that and where he was born… maybe she forced it herself to try to save him.

The rest of the information made little sense. Thursdays could mean that he would always struggle for what he wanted to achieve or contrarily be extremely successful. Last quarter of a waning moon was a perfect balance of creative and destructive lunar energy, but waning means a time of slowly removing or getting rid of something. Everything else was just gibberish to him.

His parchment looked rather concise:

_Born on a Thursday means I might struggle or be extremely successful in my life. June 5 th places me as a two-faced Gemini instead of the bold Leo I was supposed to be. The moon phase suggests gradual banishing or long introspection as I balance creative and destructive energy. Apologies, but the remainder of the chart and information is a mystery to me as I have not taken any Astronomy classes._

He was the first to approach the telescope, curious what star was above him when he was born. It took him a couple minutes to puzzle out how to use it, but once he did and looked through to see the stars, he frowned. He adjusted the focus. Then he gasped. He might never have taken astronomy before, but this constellation was one he knew very very well. His mother had told him of it often. It was Arrakis. He drew the constellation on the parchment and wrote what he remembered from his mother’s lesson on it. He drew it also on the sky scroll, along with the other two that were easy to see: The Big Dipper and the Small Dipper. He knew those two were not important really unless you were navigating or looking for Arrakis.

_Arrakis: a yellow and white sequence of stars that looks like a serpent’s head and body and tail, where the tail is seen between the Big and Small Dipper. The constellation of my family of Malfoy and that of House Slytherin._

Uncertain what else to write, he sighed. He placed his quill on the table and handed over his parchment with his responses. “I never took any astronomy or astrology classes before, now do I intend to take any after. May I keep the sky parchment?”

The teacher looked him up and down considering. “It is a shame. I think you would have enjoyed the class and found it useful. Maybe consider taking classes. Yes, you may all keep your sky parchments as long as your name is on your answer parchment.

Draco snatched back his answer parchment. He had been so enthralled with the sky parchment that he totally forgot to put his name on the answer page. The teacher took his sky parchment while he was jotting his name on the other. She wrote something upon it. When he stepped out of the room, he looked at what she had written.

**_Arrakis is also called Mu Draco and is the star that gifts those born under it with the qualities to be serious and artistic, to be somber in nature, to have an analytical mind, to travel much and to have many friends, but warns to be wary of robbery and poisoning. Draco is the Dragon that guards the treasures of Heaven. It is also known as the Little Shield, the secret protector of those who cannot protect themselves. And known as Salver, a healer in all senses of the word. It is tied to the trump tarot card DEATH which means to shed the skin and completely transform. I expect to see you in the classes every Monday night 11pm._ **

Harry called his name for the fifth time. “Earth to Draco! Are you getting on or what?”

Draco shoved the indigo blue parchment into a pocket inside his robes and sat sideways on the broom again behind Harry. This made getting to their next class much swifter indeed! That he was the first out of the class also helped, giving him more time to walk leisurely back into the charms classroom. This exam hardly required any of his attention and was by far the easiest he had taken. He felt confident he could have passed his NEWT for Charms today if it were offered.

An outdoor tea was on the agenda next for the day. Outdoor tea? Between exams? He shrugged and followed everyone outside.


	30. Tea on the Grass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love tea. I FUCKING LOVE TEA!

He had not done formal tea in so long. He hoped it was a formal tea. His mother and he used to hold formal tea in the afternoon when it was just them in the house. He found himself really looking forward to a tea, an outdoor tea. He secretly hoped this would become part of regular school scheduling, or a tradition, or maybe he would suggest it? He shook his head because now he sounded ridiculous even to himself.

Out on the grass were blankets, cushions, stools and a few little pop-up tables and chairs. Professor Tara Clark was filling several teapots with hot water. Off to one side of her was a table with milk and sugar cubes, as well as a variety of little snacks. Each teapot has a different design and a label. Cream Earl Grey. Ginseng Oolong. Midnight Magic. On the Waterfront (herbal floral fruity mint). Rooibos Spiced Chai. Monks Blend. Dragon Moon Darjeeling. Sencha Green. Lychee Red. Jasmine Pearls. Yin Zhen White. Most of the students perused the tea names with mixed perplexity and curiosity. Not far was a tatami mat and a little controlled fire where water was boiled regularly. An Asian woman in a Japanese Kimono sat there serenely and patiently. With her were all the strange tools for some strange Japanese tea that was in an open bowl, a powdered green matcha.

“Everyone please find a seat that is comfortable to your personality and needs. Most of you met me already. I am professor Tara Clark. My colleague is Professor Kitsune Kaji. You are half way through your exams by now. As both she and I are great lovers of tea, we will host regular weekly tea parties in the midafternoons in the Prefects Lounge or out here when the weather permits. Once a month, we will host one in the dining hall for all students. I would personally like to start a tea club, but I suppose I can start with this.”

Eyes followed Professor Clark to Professor Kitsune and back. A student whispered to another wondering if the new Asian professor was actually a kitsune. Suddenly the professor was gone is a slight swirl of light smoke and a sleek red fox trotted right up to the student and magical transformed again to the professor. In her slightly accented soft voice, she replied. “I am an animagus by British criteria. But in my blood is some actual Kitsune which is where I get my name.” She leaned over the student. “My hearing is good enough to pick up a conversation across a Quiddich field during an excited match.”

Well that ended the idea of secretly whispering secrets to someone you were sitting next to in class.

Draco raised his hand and when nodded to, he asked, “Will we learn about Kitsune? About other cultures? And … what subject will you be teaching us?”

She smiled and the fox dental structure remained part of her human form. “Yes. Yes. And Defense Against the Dark Arts with extra classes in martial arts. I have been hired to ensure you all know how to defend yourselves. I will be co-teaching with Professor Clark for the first few classes with you to make sure you have all the basics. She will mostly be handling the younger students, while fifth through seventh year students will be under my tutelage.”

“Should we call you… Sensai instead of Professor?” asked a Ravenclaw student.

“Professor is my official title here at Hogwarts. Sensai is a title you call a teacher you honor and respect. And when you do, you would bow to them. But for today, I bow to all of you for I am deeply honored to be your teacher and have no words to describe the feeling of respect I have for your bravery, your courage to return and be the role models of future generations.” She returned to her place and on the tatami mat with a polite nod toward Professor Clark.

Professor Clark raised an eyebrow, “I think you have exactly the right words. She will also be your transfigurations teacher as Headmistress McGonagall’s duties as headmistress are too great to also be a teacher. For now though. TEA!” she cheered. Her relaxed and enthusiastic attitude was infectious and put everyone at ease. “There are many teas in pots and I invite you to select just one. I will describe them to help you make your choice. And if tea does not remotely interest you, then you may run off now but for those doing their exam in Magical Creatures, be sure to be back here in time for it.” Some students got up and left but very few. Most remained for the enjoyment of a relaxing moment, new positive experiences, and good tea. They hoped it was good tea.

“Let me start with the black teas. Cream Earl Grey is a traditional bergamot Ceylon tea with the addition of vanilla. Best with brown sugar and milk or cream. Perfect for comfort or grounding. Midnight Magic is a heavy black tea with ginger and chocolate. For those staying up late with their noses in their studies. Monks Blend is a lighter black tea whose recipe forever remains a secret of the French Monestary that developed it. A tea for those who need inner peace, spirituality, emotional healing. Dragon Moon Darjeeling is a soft Darjeeling black tea, light with the barest notes of something celestial. A good tea for wisdom. And then there is Lychee Red. It is not a red tea, but the process is one to enhance physical healing and vitality. It is strongly flavored with the lychee fruit. All black teas can be dunk plain or with milk and/or sugar to your taste. I recommend tasting your chosen tea before you add anything to it.”

Already Draco found he wanted to try many of these teas: Cream Earl Grey for comfort, Monks Blend for everything it is for, Dragon Moon because he needs to make wise decisions, and the red lychee for healing. He wasn’t sure if he would like the flavor of the fruit as he had never tasted a lychee fruit before. He saw Hermione writing everything down and vowed to ask her for her notes later. He leaned over to look and saw she wrote Lychee nut and not fruit. He nudged her and she gave him a look to pay attention.

“We have one oolong which is a step closer to green tea. You can add honey to it, but really taste it first. It is a Ginseng Oolong, good for healing, stamina, and mental fortitude. Moving into the green teas, we have a traditional Sencha Green for cleansing both physical and magical. And Jasmine Pearls. These are a very exquisite taste of a light green tea and a strong flavor of aromatic jasmine. It is used to sooth the troubled mind or to engage in meditation. Oh! And with Professor Kitsune is a Japanese matcha green. That is a powdered green used in tea ceremonies for alertness and personal fortitude.”

Again, Draco had a mental list. He wanted to try all of these green teas.

“We have one fine white tea out of a Chinese Buddhist monastery. Yin Zhen is a traditional white, much lighter than a green tea and drunk for meditation and enlightenment. I follow this with the two teas that have no actual tea leaves in them. The Spiced Chai is a blend of African Rooibos which is a red bark for energy and Indian spices also for energy, used to stir fire and courage. The other is a blend from Canada called On the Waterfront. It has a base of mint to help open the mind to new experiences. It is blended with rosehips and flowers and we drink it for inspiration and joy.”

Draco internally lamented about how to choose! ARGH! How to choose just one! In his anxiety over choice he totally missed the teacher encouraging people to come choose a cup and a tea. He mentally wiped his slate clean and thought of his mother as Hermione rested a hand on his shoulder. “Dragon Moon or Cream Earl Grey?” he asked her.

“Cream Earl Grey.” Her sure tone settled it for him. He trusted she would know what would be best for him right now.

Draco stood and perused the remaining teacups. He chose something traditionally English and elegant. He poured it full of the cream earl grey and was met with the most soothing aroma of bergamot and vanilla. It was like being hugged by his mother when he was a child. He closes his eyes, balancing on his left leg and breathed in the aroma. That alone gave him such comfort and he hadn’t even taken his first sip. He did sip it and concluded that while it was good, he felt very British and added a dollop of milk and two brown sugar cubes. He returned to his seat with the little table and Hermione set down a small plate with a steaming buttered scone. He could smell that honey was mixed with the butter and quietly thanked her for thinking of him.

She gave him a quick smile and fetched her own Midnight Magic tea. Draco was unsurprised. He made a mental not to find her chocolate covered candied ginger. He thought she might really enjoy them. He took his first few sips slowly savoring. Comfort and grounding. One student from Ravenclaw has chosen a mug and she had the same tea in it as Draco. “Ohhh,” she declared after her first few creamy sips. “It is like a hug in a mug!” Draco had to agree. He looked about to see who else took what kind of tea. It was hard to tell. Except Harry. Harry sat with Professor Kitsune and had the matcha.

This was a perfect break from exams. It worked out the day’s stresses and refreshed all the students. Many of them wandered off afterwards to study for their evening exams or practice flying for the flying test. Everyone else stayed for the Magical Creatures exam. Draco asked for another cup of the Cream Earl Grey. He felt he really desperately needed it before facing this exam. He didn’t have to take it as he was dropping Care of Magical Creatures, but he intended to stick to his promises, even if those promises were just to himself.


	31. Creatures & Flying

The headmistress arrived to have her own cup of tea and check in on all the sixth and seventh year students. With her wand, she transfigured all of Professor Clark’s tea setup into cats which she expertly herded back into the school. Professor Kitsune stood upon her tatami mat and drew twin wands. Whatever charm she cast was lost in the translation as she spoke Japanese. Everything of hers shimmers like a mirage in the desert and evaporated. For a brief moment, the students thought they might have seen her human form sporting seven fox tails. When they blinked, the tails were not there. She too walked into the school, leaving the students alone with Professor Clark for their Care of Magical Creatures exam.

“I thought she was a muggle,” Draco commented to Blaise, hoping his friend had better information.

Blaise shrugged, “So did I.”

The red-headed teacher motioned for everyone to follow her as she walked across the grounds to the gardens. “Listen first before you begin. I have reviewed what you have had so far for your lessons these past six years. I commend Hagrid for introducing you to the exotic and interesting. You will see some of those creatures again in this repetition of your sixth or seventh year. Lockhart also introduced you to some other creatures, equally interesting. However, I find that you completely lacked in the basics that you should have gotten in your early years. So, your exam with me today will test this basic knowledge to see if you learned it in other ways. These basics are important for all aspects of your wizarding lives. Please sign your name on my attendance sheet and take a parchment and quill from this bench. Then you may begin. You will have one hour and may use anything but the library to answer it.”

Open book exam? Shared knowledge exam? One of the Hufflepuff students asked, “Can we work together?” His tone seemed incredulous like he could not believe this was possible for an exam.

“Yes. Life does not happen in isolation. Sometimes you can learn a great deal from those around you, as well as the environment. This is part general knowledge, part resourcefulness, and part treasure hunt.”

They all stood dumb. The class was interactive by nature but not ever like this. This seemed… fun. Was a class meant to be fun? Was an exam meant to be fun? Hermione broke the stupor of the students by being the first to sign the attendance sheet and take her exam. She giggled and bounced on her toes already excited to start this exam. Once everyone had their exams, Professor Clark sat in the grass with her back against a tree to wait for everyone to return with their exams. They still did not know whether or not Professor Clark was a muggle or a witch.

_Accio your answer booklet, then read this exam through before doing anything else._

_Name the animals of the four houses of Hogwarts. List their magical and symbolic properties. Describe their basic care. Identify what parts of them are used in magic if at all. And provide a spell or potion per house animal._

_List 10 potential familiars. Which are acceptable for students of Hogwarts to bring to school and why? List their magical and symbolic properties. Describe their basic care. Identify what parts of them are used in magic if at all. And provide a spell or potion per animal._

_Find a feather (NOT a quill, something naturally left behind by a bird). Identify the bird. List its magical and symbolic properties. Describe its basic care. Provide a spell or potion that uses the feather._

_Find 5 **other** animals on the grounds. List where you found them and why you found them where you did._

_All animals thus far are to be mundane (muggle) animals (except for House Gryffindor)._

_Name 3 magical creatures. List their magical and symbolic properties. Describe their basic care. Identify what parts of them are used in magic if at all. And provide a spell or potion per creature._

_Don’t list 10 familiars. List only 5, and describe the one you have or would choose if you could. Why do you choose the familiar you choose?_

_Don’t list 3 magical creatures, list 10. Give no other information._

_Summon a Flutterby Pixy to prove you can and dismiss it properly._

_Name a creature that exists but usually cannot be seen._

_Why are owls used for delivering messages?_

_What is your favorite animal or magical creature and why? List its magical and symbolic properties. Describe its basic care. Identify what parts of it are used in magic if at all. And provide a spell or potion per house animal._

_Greet our guest hippogriff behind Professor Clark’s tree._

_Answer only the last three questions._

The Accio Exam Booklet calls and the fluttering of the paper booklets sounded briefly like a cacophony of leaves on a tree in a terrible wind storm. Students then ran about madly working on their exam, searching thru the grasses, attempting summoning Flutterby Pixies, peaking around the tree to stare at the lounging hippogriff, or debating fiercely with their colleagues to get the right information about house animals and familiars. Draco watched everyone for several minutes after he read the exam once through. Then he read it through a second time with a very critical frown. In his own exam booklet, he rewrote the three questions so as to not be distracted by the remainder of the exam.

  1. _Why do you choose the familiar you choose?_
  2. _Why are owls used for delivering messages?_
  3. _What is your favorite animal or magical creature and why?_



In truth, he wanted to try to answer the whole exam, finding it all more interesting than he had expected it to be. Well, except for summoning a Flutterby Pixie because such a creature did not actually exist and except for the hippogriff because hippogriff really scared him.

Hermione has sat where she stood after retrieving her exam booklet. She has an expression on her face he had never seen before. It amused him to think that it might be because she did not know the answer to a question. He walked over and struggled to sit beside her. She made no move to help him, which he appreciated. He got down in the grass on his own. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Well, the familiar I choose and my favorite animal are the same thing, but I think the answers somehow should be different. And… I don’t actually know why owls are used for messengers over some other means or creature. But I am forbidden from going to the library to find out.”

He almost laughed because he was right that she didn’t know and answer and that it upset her because she felt she ought to know. “Why do people choose familiars?” She gasped suddenly with understanding and gave him a swift hug. Then she scribbled madly in her answer booklet.

She poked the exam parchment, “We never learned about owls.”

“No, we didn’t. I don’t know the answer to that either without accessing the history section of the library. But… I bet one of the Ravenclaw students know.”

“I’ll answer the last question then find out who knows and have them join us here,” she decided they were working together. Also, thinking on the teacher’s words, she figured that teamwork was part of the test.

He got busy answering the questions for himself.

  1. _We choose a familiar for several reasons: companion, magical working partner, servant. I confess that I know little more about familiars and myself do not choose one because I would have to take care of it and I am in no position to do so._



It was a similar answer to one he gave about getting a pet dog when he was accused of treating Teddy like an animal. It bothered him a little that he didn’t fully understand the uses of a familiar because it was not something Malfoys used or worked with, as far as he knew. Also, none of their lessons covered the idea of familiars.

  1. _My favorite animal is the dog. Not any specific kind of dog, but an intelligent one that I can train and that would also be both companion and comfort. My family used to breed hunting dogs. I miss helping with them. At this point in my life and with my current condition, I might favor a bigger strong dog that I could occasionally lean on or that could be a familiar and thus of greater assistance to me._



To their surprise, not even the Ravenclaw students knew the answer about the owls. Now both Draco and Hermione deeply and desperately wanted to know. Looking over the exam once more in case he made a mistake about the questions and dreading greeting the hippogriff, he finally decided that he really knew very little on the subject. Not only that, He wanted to know the answers to all the other questions.

He needed help getting to standing. Once up, he delivered his unfinished exam. He told Professor Clark, “I had requested to drop Care of Magical Creatures. However, I think I will formally ask to rescind my request. The questions on the exam are extremely basic, yet I know I cannot answer them and knowing those answers would help in my other magical studies.” He wondered why the professor smiled so knowingly.

“You have both passed and failed my exam, Draco Malfoy. I look forward to seeing you in my classes come September.”

He walked away feeling rather proud of himself. The exam was a set-up. No one would be able to fully answer these questions; though, they should have been able to answer the last three. It was an exercise in being able to follow proper instructions, work in a team, and accepting that you don’t know all the answers.

He meandered off to the new Quiddich field with a few other students who finished their exam early. The flying test would begin. He prayed he could pass this. Blessedly, he did. Madame Hooch took each student as they arrived to the green and had them mount a school broom and give it a simple flight about the field. If the student felt stable and showed promise, then they could do some of the flying tricks. She noted those she approved for Quiddich. Draco found he could fly and indeed it was easier than walking. However, he could not do it at length. It meant he definitely could not do Quiddich, but that much he already knew.


End file.
